Limbo
by pirate kit
Summary: The universe is saved, the Reapers are leaving, and the galaxy is an emptier place for it. However the afterlife is not quite what Shepard expected. For one... it's full of Reapers. They are about to learn a lesson on organic emotion the VERY hard way.
1. All Lost Things

_ME3 spoilers ahoy! Man the life boats! Abandon all hope ye who intend to play the game through legit! Rated M for marines with marine mouths, marines with guns, and Big Damn Hero swagger. Also, proofing is for chumps (as is sleep... oh god, I'm tired)._

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><p><strong><strong>Limbo – chapter 1<strong>**

****All Lost Things****

****3/26/12****

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><p>"Not exactly what I thought death would be like. There is no bar, for starters." Commander Jane Shepard said bluntly.<p>

If this was what death was like – it was actually remarkably similar to being stuffed in a car trunk while listening to drill sergeant barking orders outside the door. It was dark, crowded and stuffy while somehow also feeling vast and there was a sense of motion. It wasn't really 'motion' like Commander Shepard knew it though with bumps and jarring impacts. It was more like looking down at a speedometer and going __'oh shit, I really shouldn't be going this fast'__kind of motion. That kind of speed-check had always been followed in the past by either driving the Mako off a mountainside to the shrieks of terror from her teammates or slamming on the breaks just before the Hammerhead slammed into a few rocks, buildings, and geth.

And let it be known, running into geth really doesn't slow down the Hammerhead, it just causes the vehicle to catch fire, mostly. It was a thing to be avoided. Doubly so now that geth were effectively on her side. Running down allies was a bad thing.

Sensation of movement and poor driving skills aside, there was also the sense that someone was trying to talk to Shepard. Or more accurate like many someones, all of them talking through tin cans or from behind a door and none of them could be heard over any of the others. The only thing Shepard could really make out was that all the voices had a heavy flux of digitized vocal patterns.

Three questions hit Jane Shepard in a barrage quite suddenly. __'Where am I?' 'Aren't I dead?' 'Where is everyone?'__There was no real order of priority, as all three questions just kind of appeared in her mind at the same possible time. The answers to those questions didn't immediately come to mind, though. The marine's mind was an angry swarm of muttering sounds and she could barely think or even remember what had happened.

"Hey! Shut up! I can't hear myself reminisce here!" Jane shouted, feeling a throb of pain lancing her at the constant noise.

To her surprise the noises stopped. The sudden lack of any sound struck a chord of wrongness with Shepard though. It was then she realized it had __always__been silent in this place, her ears were still ringing with the high pitched whine left by a vacuum of noise. Even worse was the fact that even her frustrated shouting hadn't pierced the veil of silence.

"I didn't actually make any noise at all, did I?" Jane spoke aloud, but found she really hadn't made any sound. Yet she 'heard' herself speak (if that is the right term for it).

Her words were also heard by something else though... "We hear you." A thousands voices, speaking in perfect unison, meshed together to form a blunt and toneless sort of harmony.

The voice (or was it voices?) caused the veil to lift and she suddenly had her answer of where she was. She remembered: she was in the Reapers. All of them. Controlling them. Which sort of answered the next question – __'Aren't I dead?'__

… The answer to that should have been __'yep, dead again'__, but... dead people don't tell Reapers to shut up so they can think. Shepard had assumed her mind would have ceased to exist in place of giving the Reapers a set of general guidelines to follow. Instead, it felt like her mind had been put into a box and shoved into the closet with all the Christmas lights and boxes of clothes that don't fit. Shepard was filled with a rather dull general offense, but brushed it off to continue her line of thought.

__'Where is everyone?'__ This question – for some reason – her mind couldn't answer. 'Everyone' was too vague a parameter and – "Oh Kee'lah,... I'm starting to sound like the geth." Shepard breathed, not quite alarmed but more frustrated. "Lets try a basic question then. Where is my team... the Normandy?" She asked (herself?).

It wasn't her own memories that answered this question though, but the visual sensors of thousands of Reapers and hundreds of thousands of Reaper shock-troops. Through their eyes, or eye analogues, Shepard saw what happened.

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><p>"Did she make it? Comm chatter is loco, it can't be right!" Vega was giving Garrus space to work with a continuous suppressive fire with his assault rifle. Liara had Vega's flanks protected, a singularity at one side and knocking around the husks with a biotic barrage at the other side. Tali was hunkered down beside some rubble, encouraging her small combat drone to 'go mess up some faces' and the she popped over the ruined building to nearly point-blank shotgun a cannibal in the head. For every Reaper force that was killed, the aspect of Shepard's new memory narrowed a little more.<p>

Zoomed in with his scope, Garrus tightened his grip on the rifle as he watched the bright pillar of light flicker and go out as Harbinger destroyed the towering device as it missed it's intended target – the woman who refused to die. "She made it. … barely. Now it's our turn to get up there. Cortez, do you read?" Lowering the gun to flick his omni-tool on, the turian sparked an overload on the shields of a nearby marauder.

"- m here!" Cortez's voice was stuttered with warping distortion. "In the air too! Hamm-eam wiped out, picking up- – survivors now and-," The static was becoming worse. All comm traffic could be detected by Reapers – this one was judged 'low priority' by the synthetic army.

"Change of plans. Shepard made it in. We need to get to the Normandy. Those arms are going to be opening, and we shouldn't keep the Commander waiting." A feral grin lifted the edges of Garrus' jaws.

More static. There was a muffled 'hot damn!' and the shuttle pilot responded quickly while the signal was stronger. "Already got Javik, EDI and Alenko. Coming in to your position." A small blue speck above the buildings was dodging gunfire and swerving widely around harvesters. "EDI's already got Joker breaking away from the battle to pick us up."

With a practiced action honed by repeated fighting retreats, Cortez swerved the Kodiak into a hard turn at the last minute, popping the doors. Inside, Javik extended an arm and Liara threw herself inside, catching the prothean by the wrist and stumbling through the door as she cast a singularity in the path of the advancing shock-trooper forces to slow them. With the 'back door locked' as Shepard liked to call it, everyone else bolted into the shuttle and it jerked straight upwards even as the doors closed behind them. Total exit time was seven seconds, a record by their standards.

There was more swearing than normal in the cramped shuttle as Cortez slammed the shuttle through a hairpin turn and shot off to rendezvous with the Normandy. The Reapers lost the shuttle's signal almost immediately as the tiny Kodiac wove into the combat and essentially vanished amid the chaos. Even the Normandy flickered in and out of their sensors as it moved through the battlefield, turning on the heat sinks timed with sharp turns in order to vanish from the any combat grids. When the ship stopped moving, it was deemed 'moderate threat' at it's current position and the Reapers ignored it for the time being. The Reapers had greater things to concern themselves with at that moment anyway...

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><p>That had been the point where all Reapers suddenly fell under Shepard's control in a wave of blue energy that pulsed from the Citadel. The data the Reapers had pooled and collaborated on the matter ended, leaving Shepard once again in the dark empty space.<p>

"You issued instructions to leave – leave Earth, leave Palaven, leave Thessia... leave all organic planets, and return to Dark space. We have listened." The drone of thousands of Reaper voices rumbled, muffled from where ever they were coming from. "The status of the Normandy is not known after that, and is irrelevant. All combat battle routines were ended we left all occupied territories."

Jane Shepard looked down... a little surprised to find she had a body. Yet... it wasn't really her body. Her mind helpfully supplied a similar circumstance, it was like being in the Geth consensus server again. Her physical body of flesh and blood and cybernetics had been destroyed on the Citadel. "Yes, brilliant idea, put your hands between two differential arching electric currents. Human circuit breakers have never been very effective." Grimacing, she balled her fists and curled her fingers, repeating the movement several times, finding the action comforting.

Trying yet again to organize her chaotic thoughts, Jane asked, "So... I'm in a Reaper, but I'm controlling all of you still?"

The droning answer was rather foreboding. "You are in all Reapers. We are also in you."

"Didn't even buy me dinner first." Jane snorted. "Legion... if this is how you felt joining with all the Geth, you are the patron saint of migraines." Her head throbbed. It made little sense that pain should exist if she didn't have a body to feel it.

"Any sensation you experience while in the Convergence is a shared experience between all Reapers. We request you cease your simulated pain." The Reapers spoke as one, except for the next words, spoken by a single monotonous Reaper, "It makes steering difficult." Their ponderous tones reminded Commander Shepard of the elcor a bit... giant murderous elcor. That thought was so bizarre, she dropped the line of thought before the Reapers could seize it and start incorporating it into their own programming.

The last thing the galaxy needed was a giant fucking elcor Reaper. __'With lingering regret – I must now destroy your civilization.'__God, what a terrible idea.

The current situation finally caught up to Shepard. She had refused to destroy the Reapers. Doing so would destroy all synthetics: the Geth and EDI included. After fighting for the Geth, for Legion, and encouraging EDI to grow and evolve – it was not an acceptable loss. The choice to drag the Reapers (kicking and screaming if necessary) off Earth was still a better choice than creating the synthesis that the Catalyst had suggested. There was a slight tingle of fear at the memory now, fear that in order to 'restart the cycle' with the fusion of organic and synthetic beings the current cycle of organics would have to be purged anyway or that the Reapers would decide __'Hey! Why not finish our job?'__and continue destroying everything.

The memory was foggy though, and Shepard wasn't sure she was comprehending what the Catalyst was offering. With as much blood loss, concussion, and trauma as she had taken, she could vaguely recall the skeletal form of the human based Reaper that they had once faced off against in the Collector base– part machine, part synthetic. THAT was not a world she wanted to create.

So Shepard had chosen control.

Now Shepard was pretty much just along for the ride. The Reapers would listen to her, as they had once listened to the Catalyst. She was going to be trapped forever in a community of Reapers. There would be no afterlife for her – unless she was just a copy/paste VI of her actual mind and she was already at that great bar in heaven...

The thought began to evolve her headache into the mother of all migraines. Kaidan Alenko might have suffered from chronic migraines from his L2 implant, but he also had the frustrating habit of making Jane suffer from migraines as well. His trigger had been strong scents, bright lights and stress; Shepard's had been stupid questions and pointless rhetoric. Now, the commander held her biotic teammate in the highest esteem for his migraine ability as she unleashed the memory of migraines upon the Reapers.

Javik probably appreciated never being on the receiving end of a memory-migraine, because it was just as painful as the actual thing.

"Rear mass effect fields down." One Reaper's voice reported, and like a flash fire Reapers all across their shared Convergence-fleet began to report errors or reduced functionality.

"This does not benefit the Convergence. Desist your stored data sharing." One of the Reaper's voices wasn't quite as muffled as the others, as if it had opened the trunk she was stuffed in and whispered into her room. With the clearer voice came a heavy presence that had all the intimidating sensation of a skyscraper sized robot peering down at her. It was like the abyss was staring back at her, the darkness gaining unseeable eyes to scrutiny the small human.

The commander's response was the sudden appearance of her middle finger, and the fleeting thought, _'___Jack would be so proud. This one is for Joker, too'__. This thought caused her other finger to pop up as well, flipping off the very essence of a Reaper.

"Instructions." The Reaper essence intoned. It seemed to be asking for instructions, but it did it in such a forceful way that it was almost commanding her to command them all.

Lowering both fingers and crossing her arms, Shepard gave it a slight thought. She had exchanged her crew of humans, aliens, and AI for giant murderous robots, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a Commander. "I want to know what is going on. Right now. At this moment. Time has no meaning if I can't see anything."

The darkness was gone. Suddenly she saw __everything__, through hundreds of eyes. The Reapers were leaving the Sol system the long way – with no Mass Relays – they were just venturing out past the system, through the next, and towards Dark space. The sensation of seeing so much information at the same time should have driven any human mad, but the newly created synthetic Shepard managed to process this information and tuck it away just as orderly. Synthetics really were the pinnacle of order, … but it was more fun to live with a healthy wash of chaos.

The Sol system was fading behind the Reaper fleet, and at the same time Palaven was vanishing behind her, as was Thessia and hundreds of other planets. Soon it would just be Shepard's mind, alone, with thousands of unfeeling Reapers. Everyone would be safe... but she would never see them again. And Garrus...

Several smaller Reapers slowed in their exodus of the galaxy, their mass effect fields flickering as they lost momentum. A shuttle-length Reaper nearly flipped itself upside down trying to recover. "Desist sharing this stored information with the Convergence as well." One of the smaller Reapers requested, even it's 'request' sounding not at all unlike an order. "This is just as unpleasant as the 'migraine' sensation."

Blinking a few times, Shepard realized they were reacting to her emotions as well as her physical sensations. "It's called 'regret'... not so pleasant, is it?" The woman gave a feral smirk or pleasure, watching the smaller Reapers flounder helplessly under the emotion. "Here, try this one." Finding a new emotion, Shepard broadcast across the Reaper fleet the emotion of sorrow and mourning the loss of every organic who died in the invasion.

This time a larger Sovereign-class Reaper swung sideways unsteadily, all thrusters on one side off-line as it slammed into another dreadnought. The smaller Reapers were skating uncontrolled through the emptiness of the outer systems, pinballing off larger Reapers, asteroids, and each other.

"You have shared your senses. That is enough." This voice was terribly familiar. A fraction of a second later it clicked: Harbinger. God, trapped for all eternity in a consensus of Reapers with Harbinger? This was going to be a long eternity.

"I have half a mind to order you to fly right into a star." Shepard growled. "And since all I've got in this dark pit you call a Convergence __is half of my mind___._.. Hey Harbringer, go roll around in a black hole for a while."

There was a long pause, and suddenly the view of __everything__dimmed to only one view. Shepard was now seeing the world through Harbringer's senses. "There are no anomalous black holes in this sector." The Sovereign-class Reaper was just leaving Sol's outer reaches, navigating around a group of smaller Reapers who had been disabled by Shepard's emotional sharing.

"There is never a black hole around when you need one." Frowning, Shepard watched as her home system began to dwindle behind the Reaper. The fleet was preparing for an FTL jump, leaving the Sol system for darker places. Without the Mass Effect relays, it would take years, maybe even hundreds of years, to get all the Reapers back out to Dark Space. Perhaps just driving the fleet into suns would be a smarter plan.

The galaxy would rebuild. Eventually. All the relays were gone, but there was a chance some salarians or quarians had figured out how to rebuild them. The Citadel currently was located above Earth – refugees could settle on the planet or at least make due there until the relays were rebuilt. But... how does one get started building them? The galaxy was a ruined battlespace – places like Tuchunka didn't have the resources to build a relay on their own and no doubt lacked the research to do it anyway.

Everyone was separated now. Each system was divided. All of those peace treaties, sanctioned alliances, friends and lovers between species... all of them now separated. Earth was now home to thousands of displaced species. Turians, Krogans, Asaris, Salarians, Quarians, and god knows how many other races were currently marooned on the ruined planet. While the Citadel was parked above Earth, galactic government could continue here, but what about the rest of the galaxy? Each planet was isolated from each other, and from their own survivors.

"Wait." Shepard froze, realizing she had just issued this command out loud.

"We had already halted." Harbringer spoke monotonously. "You are exuding uncomfortable sensations of regret and loss. Two dozen Oculi have entered extended hibernation at this shared data." Surrounding the dreadnaught, the tiny specks that were Oculi were drifting haphazardly around without much control.

"Oh well... good." Shepard said, furious. "You bastards deserve it."

Another Oculi went offline at the sensation of vengeance that stabbed through Shepard.

It took a while for the Reapers to recover from this event, twisting themselves back online and lining up in proper formation. The vengeful glee faded back into a passive blandness. Shepard reached up to tug at a strand of her red hair, finding the sensation of fine hair passing through her fingertips calming. "I have no clue what to do now." She said aloud.

A smaller reaper – only a destroyer – intruded slightly into Harbringer's space. "You wish to return to Earth." The Reaper said, gleaning this information directly from Shepard's mind.

"Yes, congratulations, you Reapers are masters of stating the obvious. All hail the glory of synthetics." Sarcasm on full blast, Shepard felt a tingle of irritation. "Of course I want to return, it's – it's... you wouldn't understand, would you?"

There was a unified 'no' as a response from the Reapers.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. But returning to home isn't really an option anymore, is it?"

Again, a unified 'no' rumbled through the consensus. Organics might be willing to share their galaxy with synthetics like the geth and EDI, but the Reapers were just __too__synthetic. Too big, too strong, too terrifying. It was depressing that even with the best she could do, the galaxy was still ruined.

A destroyer jerked violently and rolled upside down, mass effect fields off, it's legs kicking frantically like a dying spider. Shepard interrupted her thoughts to gaze at it in confusion. "What's it's problem?"

Error reports simply appeared in her mind's eye. The Reaper was flailing helplessly around in the sea of chaotic emotion that Shepard was releasing. This particular unit was helpless against the sensation of pity, the report stated. There was yet another request to desist sharing this organic based emotion from the Reaper.

Enjoying the macabre mood, Shepard gave a dark chuckle again. "So if I had launched an army of empathetic emo kids to plug into the Reapers – we could have had a no casualties win... well... aside from the emo kids who would probably all be scarred for life or need more hair dye or something."

"No. Organic minds cannot interface with Reaper tech. Only due to the Catalyst are you even compatible with our Convergence at all." Harbinger sounded bored. Or … just monotonous. The woman really hadn't expected the Reaper to give her answers, not after Sovereign pulled that whole 'you won't understand' bit in order to avoid giving any answers. Shepard figured it was due to the Catalyst giving her command of the Reapers that forced them to speak back when spoken to.

Carefully shelving her current thoughts away, Shepard shook her head furiously. "No use standing around here in space. Return to deep space. Now. I don't care if it takes a thousands years to make the trip... I guess I have all the time in the world now..."

Two more destroyers flipped over on their backs, twitching and convulsing from the wave of self-pity that darkened Shepard's mood.

"God, you fucking drama queens... you think that is bad? Wait until I reminisce on the Normandy later..." And in response to this, a dreadnought steered drunkenly around one of it's kin, narrowly missing a collision.

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><p><strong>Meanwhile, uncharted planet in Horsehead Nebula<strong>

It wasn't the first time the Normandy had crashed before. First time had been the brutal collision with the Collector base, gouging massive panels of ceramic armor away and the kinetic shielding kicked on to seal the holes. However this time had been much worse. Two of the Normandy's thrusters had blown off the ship entirely. EDI pegged each landed a good hundred miles away from their impact site. The crash site could have been worse... though not by much. The elegant ship belly-flopped right onto a outcropping of boulders and several of the heavy stone pieces and pierced through her underside. The Tantalus core had remained intact, but every coolant system had ruptured and all the engineers bolted from their pit before hot, pressurized gas vented into the room.

As the highest ranking Alliance member on-board, Kaidan found himself trying to lead the crew, Liara at his back encouraging everyone along. Dumb luck and highly tuned survival instincts saw every member of the Normandy survive the crash, though not without injuries. Assigned to rescue duty were Javik and James, both hauling injured crewmates to a makeshift medbay set up outside the Normandy. Cortez had broken his leg, Joker had broken several bones, Allers was concussed and as a civilian with no military training was handling it poorly, Donnelly had been burned quiet badly fleeing the engineering room, and every crew member was a knot of bruises and cuts.

But everyone had survived, beating the odds once again.

Once the crew was safe, Alenko set orders for the two man rescue crew to set up a perimeter guard, searching for damaged parts from the Normandy scattered around or any sign of danger. Tali and EDI, both fairly safe with a full enclosed suit and a synthetic body, returned to the engineering levels to dissect the damage. Garrus would have tried to go with them, but Kaidan held him back, not wanting to see the turian cook himself like a silver-plated clam. That, and the fact Garrus seemed to be moving around in a half-aware state had the human concerned. There was disbelief and denial keeping the turian going...and when he ran out of that all he'd have left is the painful truth.

That truth was: They might not make it off the planet again.

After the first twelve hours of crashing, things only began to fall apart worse.

It had been two days since the crash now. The reality of their situation had began to sink in and a dark cloud had settled over the Garrus. Instead of leading a boarding party into the open arms of the Citadel as was the 'plan' (and by 'plan', the Normandy crew meant 'flying by the seat of our armored trousers'), EDI had suddenly detected a massive energy wave coming from the space station and effectively kidnapped the crew in a frantic attempt to leave without any sort of destination. There was no logical reason for EDI to force a retreat, but the helmsman later admitted that EDI looked … terrified... driven by something that even she hadn't understood. Joker had tried to stop the AI at first, but the synthetic had jerked out of her robotic shell to push her full energy out of the Normandy – there was little the helmsman could do other than shout. The Normandy hit the relay, retreating to the Horsehead Nebula and then jumping FTL to try to outrun the energy. When the corresponding relay blew up behind them, it only served to shake Joker into action and he tried to help pull them out of the energy wave.

Upon failing to outrun the pulse of energy, the Normandy had been swallowed up, and only with the luck of a crew made of four-leaf clovers and bullets did it manage to crash onto a planet that had a garden world that's greatest disadvantage was they had no clue where it was at. After the crash, EDI had managed to analyzed the pulse wave even as they were going down in flames, and the news hadn't lifted anyone's spirits. The ionized wave, while harmless to organics, contained a message so massive that it had influenced the AI even before it struck the ship – The message was from Shepard, and it was an order to 'leave' coded in such a way that Traynor calculated it was impossible for the Reapers to ignore.

So they had won. Reapers were leaving. Yet no one felt truly victorious.

Once the immediate danger of the crash was settled, that was when tempers began to flare. Half of the crew was furious at EDI for removing them from the battle, let alone from the Sol system.

When Joker and Traynor had pressed the AI for answers, EDI answered only reluctantly. "The Reaper IFF my combat warfare suite is built around channeled that command directly into my processes. By the time I realized what I was doing, I had already hit the relay. After that, my only concern was keeping the Normandy and it's crew in one piece. I fled the battle not because of choice, but because of duty. Because it was what Shepard had instructed."

That answer did not sit well with Garrus.

Joker had shouted (springing being out of the question when you are tethered down in a recovery bed) to EDI's aid that the AI had only done what was right at the time. Against the turian, EDI refused to defend herself, even verbally. Garrus never made a move to fight with the robotic avatar of the ship, but the hostilities peaked to a height that Tali was forced to throw herself in placate him before things really did come to blows. In the end Garrus was still so enraged at the Normandy's turncoat tactics he removed himself from even his basic repair routine in order to avoid AI.

"If Vakarian is angry, it is only part of the natural grieving process. I did what was deemed 'right'... but the right thing to do isn't the easiest." EDI murmured quietly. Doing the 'right thing' had left the Normandy's AI racked with guilt. In turn, if EDI wasn't happy, Joker wasn't happy. And if Joker wasn't happy, he was busy making everyone else miserable.

So for two days, they had been trapped on this world. For two days Liara had helped the communication specialist Traynor, to get the quantum communicator back up. That was two days of the crew left in the dark on what had happened back on Earth. All they knew was the mass effect relays were gone, they had no clue where they were in this star system with so much off the Normandy's navigation systems damaged, and also Shepard wasn't with them.

It was that last bit that had everyone on edge.

"Garrus has not been eating." Liara murmured to Kaidan, fiddling with a small console set at the Normandy's starboard flank. "I'm certain he hasn't slept properly since …" The asari paused, "...before Sanctuary, if I had my guess." Garrus' disjointed behavior was set flags waving in alarm. Without a resident psychologist on board, there was a running speculation on 'who would crack first'. Unfortunately, Garrus was heading the top of that list.

Kaidan invoked Shepard's name like a curse and a prayer. "I'm not the same as Shepard. I don't know what to do here, Liara. I mean... Garrus is a friend, yeah, but he won't talk to me. He wants a commanding officer... not a friend right now. Will he even talk to you?"

"No..." Liara's hands stopped on the keyboard, her head bowed. "But I believe you are correct. Right now, he doesn't want a sympathetic ear. He needs command. Then you have to be a commander." Liara said firmly, only glancing up briefly from her work.

The biotic shook his head. "Normandy has only has one Commander, and it's not me. I'm not sure what to do with him."

Someone didn't take Kaidan's pity well. "Well, I'm sure keeping the stir-crazy turian on house arrest is an excellent idea. Almost as good as trying to court martial the only person in the galaxy who knew what the hell was going on earlier. Mark this down as another victory for the Alliance." Joker was scowling, a new beard coming in to replace the perpetual stubble he had cultivated.

The pilot was fastened – quite physically – to a medpod pulled out of the ship. The pilot wasn't nearly as injured as Dr Chakwas had been expecting, suffering only a few broken ribs along his spine and a small fracture above his elbow. However the doctor was taking no risks and Joker was confined to bedrest until the bone weave healed, and she had resorted to tethering him down. Being confined to the medpod by canvas straps to keep him from 'helping', Joker was furious and bitter too, much like Garrus's own mood.

Only difference being that Joker wasn't carrying a gun that could pierce through armor plated shielding. Small favors.

Owlish brown eyes turned to stare at the pilot, not sure what was about to be unleashed upon him but pretty sure it was like opening a can of worms. Big worms. Like... Thresher maws. My god... a can of thresher maws... Alenko barely managed to jerk his thoughts away from wandering idly.

"You signed onto this crew, even after knowing full well this is basically a flying mental ward where the inmates are given guns instead of padded cells. If Garrus won't listen, you are going to have to go pull a page out of Shepard's book and headbutt him into submission and have a screaming match." Joker said, sounding completely serious.

"I... I can't do that." Kaidan said, tension raising his voice higher than normal.

"Ok fine. Or just pin him with some biotic juju and scold him. Whatever. Potato. Pota-to. Personally, Shepard's way worked best." The pilot muttered, folding his arms and shifting backwards to take the pressure off his injured side. "The fact is, you have an angry turian wandering around with nothing to do because you are treating him like a timebomb instead of a teammate."

Kaidan dropped the gun he had been trying to reassemble back into the table. "What am I supposed to say? _'Sorry you just lost your – uh... Shepard. Sucks all around, doesn't it?'_ We're all in the same boat, and that boat has crashed god knows where. We've __all__lost Shepard."

Crew skuttlebutt had gone insane with gossip when Garrus had rejoined the crew of the Normandy after mowing down the Collector base. It wasn't quite public knowledge that Commander Shepard had found herself 'joined' (as Javik called it) with Garrus, but among the recycled crewmates from the Normandy it was patently obvious. The only thing that kept the entire galaxy from knowing that Vakarian had a claim on the most respected and powerful human in the Alliance was the silence of the crew and the tact of the Normandy's pocket-reporter Allers who didn't dare to tread on Shepard's personal privacy.

"We haven't lost her!" Joker's voice was strained.

"Well we certainly didn't just misplace her!" Kaidan shouted back. "This is Shepard we are talking about, not a set of keys! If she didn't come back... she had a reason."

An uncomfortable silence that was broken only by the chirping of the local insects was the only sound. Liara was looking up from her console, eyes puffy and smudged. "Kaidan..." she said softly, all that was needed to cut him off from his tirade. "Garrus right over there." Lifting her chin slightly, Liara nodded towards the aft of the Normandy, where a glint of blue armor could be seen protruding from around the ship. "And he has very good hearing." The asari's voice was barely whisper.

The turian was already leaving before the second human Spectre could gather his thoughts.

The ever present pressure behind his eyes in the form of a migraine began throbbing in Kaidan's head. "Great. I'll... do something." Sighing, the man wiped at his eyes and pressed two fingers into the divot between forehead and the bridge of his nose. "Shepard wouldn't just – I'll figure it out." The biotic slumped forward onto the table, his palms pressed into the metal. "How you holding up, Liara?"

The asari only shook her head silently.

"Joker?" Kaidan asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't mind me. I'll just sit here and let my bones knit while you figure out how to get us off this rock." The pilot snorted.

The wince increased, and Kaidan felt the definite throb of a migraine now. "Remember that time back on the first Normandy... when everything went sideways and Shepard stole the ship?"

Raising an eyebrow, Joker nodded.

"I tried to – cheer her up there. I wasn't very good at it." Kaidan mumbled.

"No, really." Joker rolled his eyes. Alenko glared.

EDI, patched into the Normandy's systems and scattered communications systems, spoke through the computer Liara worked at. "That would be sarcasm, Council Spectre Major Alenko." EDI's voice was a smooth, high monotone. "It is a low-brow form of humor."

Kaidan continued to try to rub away the migraine. "Yes, thanks EDI. But the point is, Shepard needed to be cheered up, and I was terrible at it. She told me all I needed to just tell her everything would be ok, even if it wasn't. Well... I could use some of that blind optimism right now too." The man looked defeated. The Reapers were leaving the galaxy was saved, and he looked like he had just been through the ringer twice with an angry krogan.

A long pause. "Hey. Kaidan. You'll do fine. Just put on your man-pants – or Shepard's man-pants – and do your best. That's all she ever did." Joker spoke hesitantly.

"I have a feeling her 'best' is better than mine." Kaidan shoved the pieces of the gun into a pile, making sure none were lost.

"My god, man. You are impossible to cheer up. You are like a big fucking cloud of emo." Joker huffed. "Well, that was my best shot at it. Your turn, Liara."

The Information Broker nodded, more at Kaidan than Joker, and said, "Just get Garrus back to us. We've all been through too much to start breaking apart now. Shepard was right: If we're going to beat this – whatever we face – we have to face it together." The asari's words were tense, but a small glimmer of hope still burned.

"Well, I guess we can't let the band fall apart now. We have to go make a comeback tour, reap in a fortune from the vids, and then all go buy beachfront property somewhere." Joker shook his head, amused. "I hear Rannoch is a good place. Lots of space, sand, it's got dry heat (whatever that means), and no bugs at all. I'm going to go set up beachfront property there, Tali!" Joker said the last part much louder, hoping the comm system EDI had just spoke from was connected to Tali's suit.

"Too bad. I've claimed it all. I'm starting a kingdom." Tali responded over the radio.

"A kingdom." Blankly, Liara looked down at the comm system in wonder.

"Yes. All those who accept my rule are welcome. Garrus is going to be a duke. We had this discussion earlier. If he killed more reapers than I did, he could lay claim to some of my kingdom as a duke. Or a mobile-primarch. We couldn't really agree on his title." Tali's voice sounded a little breathless. She wasn't really equip for heavy lifting and the repairs of the Tantalus core would have to fall to her and EDI only until they could repair the heat sinks.

"Need any vassals?" Joker asked. "Joining a kingdom of people who look fabulous in environmental suits sounds – wait - is Garrus going to be wearing one of those suits? Because while he might have the hips for it... I think I could go my whole life without seeing that."

Kaidan's migraine dulled slightly. Joker's attempts at cheering him up were pretty terrible... but his diffusion of the subject via sarcasm and humor was vastly appreciated. Tali's attempts at a conversation that was like 'the old days' managed to take the desperate edge off the situation. If this was even a quarter of the stress Shepard had been under the whole time – Kaidan wasn't sure how his commander had managed it. Without the throbbing pain behind his eyes, the biotic left to go round up Garrus and see if there was anything he could say that wouldn't either get him punched by a furious turian or to make the situation worse.

"I guess it could always be worse." Kaidan turned away, but he really didn't believe it.


	2. Lessons the Easy way

__This Shepard would be a Vanguard/Warhero/Paragade (do the right thing – but say the badass choices). Keeps the crew on their feet.__

__Also, bear with me on slow updates. I'm in process of putting things into boxes, forgetting which boxes I have just put all the things, and then unpacking. It's like this endless cycle. And then once I move, everything will gain ninja-skills and I'll never see it again. It ALWAYS happens. (PS, if you see my common sense, tell it to come home)__

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Limbo<strong>**

****Chapter 2 – Lessons the Easy way****

****3/27/12****

* * *

><p>"Hey, Squidzilla. Move faster. You are falling behind." Shepard barked, trying to rally a dreadnought Reaper into catching up with the fleet. The large Reaper was missing a few limbs, but otherwise still functioning. The fact it was missing limbs meant that the collaboration of the Victory Fleet had pounded it for everything they were worth – and unable to destroy it before being wiped out or Shepard's call to leave summoned it away.<p>

The thought sucked.

Over the past day, Shepard had let spite run away with her and started queuing up a list of all badly damaged Reapers to throw themselves into a sun. It would take too long to repair them, and she had no motivation to save the Reaper forces. Destroying the damaged ones was faster than having them slowly drag the fleet away from organics.

Harbinger had spoke up, even as Shepard had started to pick who to hurl into a sun. "Shepard. Your choice is folly. You are us. We are you. Each unit shares and receives data from you, destroying it is comparable to destroying yourself, one piece at a time."

Shepard glared into the darkness, feeling the heavy presence of the Reaper looming. "I don't have a body anymore, not a whole lot left to destroy here."

"Incorrect. Memories. Personality. Base instincts. All were merged into our systems and incorporated into all Reapers. You are us. We are you." The darkness seemed to thrum as Harbinger spoke. It didn't make much sense, but there wasn't much sense someone could make out of living inside a Convergence of Reapers (or as she was now calling it, 'a collaboration of fucking bastards').

Testing the limits of her new found prison, Shepard asked, "What if I did start commanding Reapers to destroy themselves. Would they listen?"

"Yes."

"And what would happen to me?"

A pause, and the pressure seemed to double as if Harbinger approached closer. "Systematic removal of key attributes that make Shepard __the Shepard__. If destruction continues, Shepard-Code would become obsolete, and Reapers would return to their original programming."

"God dammit." A furious sigh, almost a growl, proceeded the beginning of another headache. She wasn't sure if the headache was due to the fact she was now considered __programming__, or the fact the Reapers would just go back into purging the organics.

The result was Shepard wasn't too keen on destroying Reapers while she was a part of them. Still, the ruined shells of some of the more damaged Reapers were barely able to keep up with the fleet needed to be culled or repaired.

Shepard resisted both options. She didn't want to repair the same monsters that had almost wiped out organic life. Culling them meant an agonizing pain that there was no escaping until the last Reaper was dead. If she was also destroying a piece of herself with each Reaper, there was a chance that she would lose her influence before she had scrapped half the fleet. No... it was better to be in control and herself than lose her influence of the murderous fleet.

"The next million years are going to be a bitch." Shepard growled.

There had only been a dozen Reapers too badly damaged to make an FTL jump into Dark Space. Shepard intended to 'park' them somewhere isolated later, somewhere difficult for organics to get to. Not only for the sake of anyone who may accidentally come across a disabled Reaper, but for the sake of preventing anyone like Cerberus from getting their hands on the Reaper tech. Ordering the rest of the fleet to go on ahead, the damaged Reapers took up a much slower pace out of the system.

Shepard spent long hours digging through Reaper information – unit after unit - and reviewing the various information on each Reaper. They were designed to be unstoppable, only to kill and destroy. There were no aesthetics about them. Each Reaper contained a synthetic replication of the sentient race that was 'melted' in order to form it, but none bore any resemblance at all to their organic origins.

"At what point did 'squid' become the most effective destroyers in the galaxy?" Shepard brushed some data aside as someone would wave away a swarm of gnats.

"Our forms were selected by the Catalyst – a combination of effectiveness and legacy. These vessels are the improvement of the original synthetic species." Harbinger intoned.

"So once-upon-a-time, your... ancestors... were robotic squid?"

"Our prototype forms were based on a similar design." The Reaper seemed to agree, but he was a wordy bastard and Shepard wasn't quite sure.

Shepard sighed. "Way to make me believe Lovecraft may have been on to something when he said the unspeakable horror had tentacles..."

While sifting through the billions of yottabytes of information the Reaper fleet had stored, Shepard found topics from species millions of years old to such current things like turian fleet protocol. Shoving more data aside, something flickered by on the wall of information that cause the Commander to preform a double take. "Stop! Bring that information back!" She pointed at a specific screen, now reporting the logistics of the using the keepers as a subservient race.

That data paused, then the screen clicked backwards slowly. Showing page after page of data until it hit the thing the woman had seen in that single split second. "Stop. This!" The page was displaying a three dimensional view of one of the mass relays, showing the relay broken down into components that she had never seen before. The relays were designed to be very easy to use, but almost impossible to analyze. Like the Keepers, they were almost a tamper proof, and most races simply had accepted the relays and taken them all for granted. This schematic showed in exceptional detail the tamper proof system, the one that could cause the relay to lose all power and devastate an entire solar system. It was the schematic for the Alpha Relay, and clearly showed the effect that destroying it would unleash. Something Shepard had learned the hard way.

A terrible though seized the commander's mind. __'Did I just unleash this on every system with a relay? Of all those 'choices' the Catalyst gave me... all had 'blow the crap out of relays' as an outcome'...'__

A cold shiver ran through Shepard. "I want information on the Mass Effect relays. I want proof I haven't just vaporized half of the galaxy with what I did – I can't... You built them, right?" Her thoughts were jumbled, her nerves beginning to fray. The destruction of the Alpha Relay alone had cost the lives of 300,000 people when it blew up... what was the death toll if every Relay blew up at once?

"Their construction was our design. Our plan." Harbringer's voice was clearer now, the heavy bass rumbling in the commander's skull. There was a heavy _**pressure**_ on the human's body, as if she was being smothered. Suddenly something 'clicked' in her mind and images, data, and information of the relays was fed directly into her mind. Full schematics were suddenly part of her memories, including the process needed to build them. Shepard winced at sheer amount of eezo it would take to build each pair of relays.

"The Catalyst did not destroy them in a manner that would purge organic life from the systems. The relays failsafes were triggered and the energy from each blast was funneled to the next relay. No damage was inflicted on the systems until the last relay was destroyed." Harbinger's words didn't really take any of that worry away.

"That means by the time we ran out of relays, the last system was exposed to a blast two dozen times more powerful that it would have been originally?"

"Yes."

"... well... fuck..."

The Reaper took a long pause, and more data flickered in front of Shepard, much like the Illusive Man's 'wall o' data' set up. "The last relay was the Omega-4 relay, leading to the nexus of the galaxy."

Unexpected, Shepard found hope in this. "You mean... the black hole storage facility for the galaxy blew up? Not a settled system?"

"Correct."

A slow and nervous chuckle erupted from Shepard's throat, breaking into a desperate and almost hysterical laugh. "Oh god, the galaxy – I can't leave it alone for five minutes without it nearly destroying itself." The nervous energy collected into relief and gratitude. Without realizing it, the Commander was broadcasting this feeling among the Reapers.

A sudden wall of data slammed up around Shepard, and over half the Reaper fleet was suddenly reporting wild errors or complete hibernation mode. Dreadnoughts were firing their thrusters randomly, swinging around in circles like a dog chasing it's tail. A Capital ship was turning in helpless loops, continuously activating and deactivating its shielding. The smaller synthetics were rolling, zipping about as if they were charged on coffee, or had dropped completely offline in shock. All of the Reapers distress was from the tiny sensation of happiness she had felt. Amid the hundreds of requests to 'desist' and 'render aid', Shepard found her nervous laugh exploded into a full throaty cackle at seeing the situation. Schadenfreude. Oh, it was so bitterly sweet right now.

As far as Shepard could tell, Reapers felt no emotion. No satisfaction, no joy, not even anger. They simply did their job, and returned to dark space to wait. They didn't even feel camaraderie towards one another like the geth strove to be united. Any sort of emotion inserted right into the Convergence acted almost like a virus, disabling the fleet and casting the 'perfect' synthetics in a state of disarray. A slight memory trembled along Shepard's mind – Joker in the cockpit of the Normandy, snorting in disbelief at the current battle plan and wondering if it would be easier to discover the secret of time travel or _teach Reapers to love._

God dammit, if Joker could see this now, he would break a few ribs laughing.

"Hey, squids. I'm going to teach you a very important lesson. And we have an eternity to get it right. I'm going to teach all you emotionally broken scrap piles what emotions are like." Shepard decided aloud. "Starting with friendship... you bastards." Yes, it was hypocritical – No, Shepard did not care.

One of the Reapers veered sharply to the side, nearly entering the gravity well of a nearby sun. Whether it was out of system distress from being bombarded with emotions or the Reaper trying to take suicide as a way out, Shepard had no clue. "This whole plan is going to be like pulling teeth... with a high powered assault rifle – a little dirty and difficult but probably amusing."

"Human dentistry does not work that way." Harbinger rumbled.

"And thank you god." The woman shook her head, preparing to broadcast to all the Reapers. "Lesson One: Emotions for Robots – Friendship." Without any warning, the human dropped into her memories, reliving the past with a greater clarity than she had ever managed before.

* * *

><p><strong>Recalling memory 12 file: Normandy SR-1, after <strong>

The Normandy had found Shepard not only a home and a purpose, but her friends as well. In the beginning, dragging aliens onto a ship crewed almost entirely by humans could have ended very poorly (especially with half the crew wary of the krogan and turian who kept to the cargo bay), there had been an almost immediate 'click' as everyone fell into their rolls. Their very first mission as a group had gone … spectacular in a way, in which the Mako had plowed into a geth armature and it had become stuck in the drive shaft and dragged it a good two miles, they had all almost gotten incinerated by molten sulfur, and finally introducing yet another alien to the crew.

Yes, some ruins were destroyed, but the Council liked to complain about just about anything.

Shepard had dragged the various crew members to the cargo hold, Liara and Kaidan almost uncomfortable in the lower deck and Tali curiously following along. Shepard was carrying the largest bottle of 'generic space booze' she could find on an alliance ship (which strangely enough hadn't been hard to procure). The harder thing to find was the small bottle of dextro-amino booze that had been requisitioned by mistake and shelved near the back of the hold. God bless the Alliances' hoarding reflex.

Shepard slammed the bottle onto the dented hood of the Mako, startling the turian who was half lodged under the vehicle. "Hop up here, Garrus. Wrex, stop your lurking and get over here. Ashley –, " Shepard gave the other woman an obvious beckon. "I'm about to teach you an ancient N7 tradition, that all senior officers in the program teach – the art of commemorating something significant... with a good stiff drink and the lucky bastards you got through it with."

"Ancient N7 tradition?" Ashley smirked.

"Ancient." Shepard nodded, completely serious except for a wicked gleam in her eyes. The crew watched either with curiosity or amusement as the first human Spectre – with complete solemnity - poured out a round for them all.

Lifting her glass to her forehead, Shepard touched the cool ceramic to her skin. "This moment, I swear I'll remember until I die. The day we survived no fewer than six potentially fatal traps and pitfalls set by Saren and the Geth on a mission. And you all survived my driving. You lucky bastards."

"Lucky bastards!" Ashley apparently 'knew' of this tradition (or really ANY marine drinking tradition) and repeated the cheer.

The wise-ass pilot 'inherited' with the Normandy had a few things to say on that matter, __"Geth? Pfft! Just put the Commander in the Mako, aim her in their general direction, and then run for cover! I think she actually made that Geth Armature dizzy by circling it for the five minutes it took for you gunsdogs to wear it down. It was like a merry-go-round... with guns."___ J_oker's voice rang through the speakers just as clear as if he had been down in the hold as well.

That had been the first time Shepard had seen both Garrus and Wrex smile at the same thing. It had also been the first time that Shepard found Tali had never drank anything stronger that vitamin infused water before.

With all of them moderately to completely toasted by the end of the bottles, there had been some joking around at what had been the most terrifying thing they had survived through _that _day. Liara had admitted picking __everything__was probably a little unfair, and narrowed it down to the elevator ambush. Kaidan admitted that death by molten sulfur had to be the worst way to go. And Wrex... he said it had been Shepard's driving.

The Commander had broken into uproarious laughter at this, apologizing drunkenly for 'offending the delicate krogan's senses with her driving'. The resulting hubbub had ended up with Shepard tossed over Wrex's shoulder as he stormed up to the cockpit and dropped her into the co-pilot chair and demanded the brittle boned human teach the commander 'basic survival driving'.

Joker had never ever let her forget it – the fact the woman had made a krogan fear for his life with her driving.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Recalling memory 28 file: Novaria – **

"I hate the cold." Wrex's heavy bass voice rumbled as he stomped along the frozen hall, icicles shivering with each step. The krogan was NOT amused with this mission.

"Even I'm cold, and I have an environmental suit." Tali shivered, cradling her shotgun with both arms.

Shepard kept a fast march going. "Really? I'm fine, and I'm a thin-skinned, delicate human." At mention of 'delicate', Wrex snorted.

"Seriously? It's beyond freezing, how can you be fine?" Tali took several longer steps to close the gap between her and Shepard. The human lead the line, Tali in the middle, Wrex bringing up the rear.

"Biotics." Shepard raised one fist, a flare of biotic energy bathing the hall with an eeiry blue glow. "It takes more energy, but it keeps me nice and toasty warm. It feels like I'm sizzling like a piece of bacon actually... maybe I should tone it down a bit."

There was a skittering sound down the hall, and Shepard's fist flew up into the air giving the command to all halt. Silence, nothing moved, but everyone had raised their weapons. After a few moments, Shepard lowered her hand, giving permission to move again.

"What was it?" Tali asked, falling back a bit closer to Wrex.

"Dunno. Whatever it was, maybe it is after __the bacon___." _The krogan grinned at the human.

So when the insect-like things (later to be rediscovered as rachni) suddenly shoved through the sectioned wall and flooring, resulting biotic chaos from a charging vanguard and hail of bullets soon had ever creature crumpled on the floor with a green splatter.

"W-what was that? Some kind of... bug?" Tali recoiled from the carcasses.

Only half sarcastic, Wrex nudged Tali to continue. "Don't worry, I'll protect you...__the bacon___ c_an watch out for herself, apparently."

"Damn straight." Without looking back at her team, they both knew she was grinning.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

**Recalling memory file 43: - Ground mission - Unsettled **

Shepard sat at the controls of the Mako, her gaze dipping down every few seconds to consult the map. "At this point, if this beacon ISN'T a geth ambush, I'll be surprised. Get ready for it."

Garrus had been sitting in the passenger seat and sighed, "You really aren't happy unless you've explored every square mile of previously unexplored territory and put rockets into anything that looks at you funny, are you?"

"Think of it as preventative justice."

"And where does salvaging every piece of scrap that has fallen from space come into play at in 'justice'?" Garrus might have been teasing, however his face was almost perfectly stoic.

"Hey, Asari Matriarch tablets make for excellent bedtime reading. And some of those writings... whew... asari sure have imaginations on them." The Commander might have actually turned pink at this point, but the dashboard of the Mako put a reflective red glow on almost everything. "Up top, Garrus. Ash, take the cannons." Shepard flipped her hand to the canopy of the Mako.

"Aye skipper!" Ashley shouldered the assault rifle and hauled herself bodily through the opening in the canopy. "Looks like I get the big gun." She smirked at Garrus.

The sniper rested the stock of his gun on the Mako's bouncing roof, using his wrist to keep the jitter down. "Old turian saying. It's not the size of the gun... but the size of the target you take down with it."

"Is that some kind of machismo challenge?" Ashley glared at him for a moment, wheeling the forward cannon around to face the probe in the distance.

Garrus unfolded the stock of his rifle with infinite care, only looking up when he was done. "A challenge, yes? Machismo, no. Just a bet that even with your pile of near limitless rockets the Mako can spawn, I'll still beat your count for this."

"Oh you cocky, ... deal!" Ashley gripped the gun's two toggles tighter.

The dull grinding sound of the Mako's tires on the silicate surface of the planet was suddenly overwhelmed by the shrill shriek of an incoming missile, fired from a geth foxhole only a few dozen yards from where the probe had been issuing it's emergency channel message. Swerving quickly from one side and then to the other so hard the Mako did a full 180 turn, it was all Ashley and Garrus could do just to stay in the vehicle at all. However, even when pinned to the canopy of the Mako, Garrus got a shot off and dropped a geth Prime lifting itself over the lip of a fortification.

"One!" Garrus called off a count.

In response, Ashley fired the rockets immediately. The explosion sent little geth frames flying out from behind their barricade. "Like... I dunno... four?" She swung the cannons around to cover their flank.

"Yeah, but they were little ones. Be sporting, Williams. What's that phrase... catch and let go?" Garrus lined up another shot, dropping a drone as well. "Two." He counted off as if he hadn't even noticed the conversation they were having.

"Catch and release!" Ashley corrected, "Fine... switching to bullets." One downside of the Mako's cannons... while they were powerful... was that the rapid fire bullets were extremely inaccurate. Especially when Shepard was swerving all over the battlefield, even encouraging the Mako to jump fortifications to plow right through the Geths' defenses."

Five minutes later, not a single Geth remained intact. Ashley allowed the cannons to spin down, hot barrels finally given the chance to cool. "Ok, total it up, Vakarian." The human marine taunted. "Twelve." She smirked.

"Sixteen." Garrus was already collapsing his rifle and stowed it carefully away.

"Hey, Garrus, can you check the Mako? I think there is a geth wrapped around the driveshaft." Shepard shouted from the cockpit. "I swear, I hit no fewer than twenty two of them."

Both the soldier stopped, looking down into the glowing red interior of the Mako. "T-twenty two?" Ashley was agog.

"Actually... twenty one. SOMEONE up there is a kill-stealer." Shepard laughed.

Garrus only shook his head. "Thank the Spirits the Mako can't come with us normally. I didn't think one could become proficient in vehicular homicide."

Ashley was leaning over the edge of the vehicle, looking at the body of the Mako. "Ok, when we get back to the Normandy, I'm going to make little tally marks for each enemy the Mako takes down. I might even help you pick the geth pieces out of the old girl."

As the memory ticked on from that moment, Shepard could recall that after two weeks of combing planets, bouncing from system to system under Admiral Hackett's request, the Mako had so many tally marks of things it had run over (mercs, geth, husks, and an unfortunate blue monkey-like thing that had stolen their data on one planet) that there was no where left to put any more on it's body. However Ashley still helped Garrus repair the Mako, and Shepard usually parked herself on the canopy of the vehicle, always just a little amused with the two of them.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_**Recalling memory file 55: Normandy SR-1, Action **_

"You are dividing us into squads?" Kaidan asked, unsure.

"It makes sense. I'm a biotic, you're a biotic, Liara is a biotic, and if you turn your head to the side and kind of _squint_, then Wrex is a biotic. We have a lot of biotic juju. Which is good... except against Geth." Shepard had thought this over carefully. "Against mercs, biotics have the upper hand. Against geth... well, no offense,... I'd rather have Tali."

Kaidan nodded. Tali had proven indispensable more times than he could count against the geth (or glitchy elevators, or angry computer systems, or vengeful taxi cabs...). "So what kind of groups would we be operating in?"

Shepard raised a hand, ticking off on her fingers. "The biotic blender group still is-,"

There was a rather appalled interruption. "Did you just compare us to a household kitchen item?" Liara had been listening curiously to the two humans have their discussion.

The Commander smiled sheepishly, "Turn on the biotics and things tend to... puree."

Nodding at the logic, the asari settled quietly back down to listen.

"So you have a biotic squad for organic threats. What about the geth?" Kaidan asked, following Shepard's logic so far.

"Tali and Garrus, Kaidan you would be the backup third, in case of injury from the others." Shepard could see the argument coming and intercepted, "I know you are an accomplished tech as well, Kaidan, but I'm still a biotic and leading the squad. The fewer biotics we have against the geth, the more damage we can actually do. All I can do is run up, punch them in the flashlight, and shotgun them down."

The lieutenant nodded, understanding but perhaps not liking the idea.

"Then there is the Trouble Squad that is-,"

"The... what?" Liara interrupted again, this time more lost than with the blender metaphor.

The smile from Shepard was more cunning this time, "Trouble Squad. A build for when we have no clue what we are up against. I was taught three things by Anderson back in Basic. 1) Always go in expecting trouble. 2) Always bring your gun. 3) No, cadet, your BIG gun. And I've never forgotten that advice."

Shaking her head in amusement, Liara took a guess, "So I'm assuming our big guns are Wrex... and Garrus?"

"Are you judging his skills by... the length of his gun?" The laugh was barely held back at the rather embarrassed look on both Kaidan's and Liara's faces.

"I-I didn't mean it like that!" The archeologist flushed a shade of purple, her freckles standing out even more on lavender.

Shuffling by the mess hall, Ashley called out as she passed by, "It's not the size of the gun... but the size of the target... or... something turian like that."

There was amusement on the Commander's expression. "Thank you, Williams." She said, teasing. Ashley saluted, and went to raid the fridge. "And that is why the Trouble Squad would be Wrex and Ashley with Garrus as the backup third. A team of gundogs."

"But... shouldn't your Trouble Squad have someone like Tali and Liara? Pure tech and pure biotic? You'd be prepared for everything that way." Kaidan countered.

Shaking her head, Commander Shepard pat the seat next to her as Ash returned from the fridge, inviting her to sit. "Sometimes, bullets are the best problem solvers. It's worked for generations, can't buck the trend."

"Damn straight! Damn few." Ashley said solemnly, but with pride.

* * *

><p>By the time Shepard had flicked through each of these memories of the Normandy, she was left with only a few memories she didn't wish to share. One being her personal relationships and the other being Ashley's death. Love and death could be saved for another lesson... perhaps when the sting of both had dulled more. "First lesson on friendship complete. Status?"<p>

_**Current status of the fleet:** Flailing around helplessly._

All of them, except Harbinger, that is. The massive Reaper remained motionless as a destroyer rolled passed it. "Shepard." The Reaper rumbled. "These data logs-,"

"Memories." Shepard interrupted.

The Reaper continued without pause, "-all contain information on 'friendship', yet every occurrence leads to the creation of regret and loss. By our standards, friendship is a precursory symptom of regret."

Rage slowly boiled away the feeling of loss. "So you are saying it's not worth it to bother with companions for the inevitable feeling of loss when we die?"

"Correct." Harbinger rumbled.

"Then what about your own kind. Reapers don't age and die like organics do, your 'friendships' would last longer. Yet you Reapers don't even seem to __like__one another... why?" Shepard asked. To her this quirk was as unknowable as the Reapers original task back during her days hunting Saren.

There was a pause from the Reaper, and the sensation of something looming pressed down on Shepard in the darkness. Harbinger was scrutinizing her, the organic/synthetic being lodged in the middle of all the Reaper code.

__'Because – we are jackasses.'__Ok, so Harbinger DIDN'T say that, but it wouldn't be unexpected if he did admit it.

"Because – we are all a collection of programs and AI. Other individual Reapers have different programs, different technical specs, not all Reapers are compatible with the same system. __We__are all the companion we need. Other Reapers are not necessary for companionship." Harbinger replied. Shepard recalled Legion telling her that each Reaper ship was like a geth, only MUCH more advanced. Each Reaper worked in tandem with thousands of little AI, boosting it's own intelligence with every system.

"So... you have sub-err...-species of Reapers, and you are are a bunch of racist ship-squids. God dammit, how did you bastards even decide to work together if you don't even like each other." The woman asked the darkness.

"It is our task. … It **_was _**our task. New perimeters involve staying as far from organic life as possible." The Reaper intoned dully.

"Damn straight." Shepard finished perusing the data on the Reaper fleet and found that her memories of friendship aboard the Normandy had been shocking enough to drop every Reaper in the entire galaxy out of FTL. In every system, the exodus of Reapers had stopped to roll over and over helplessly. "First order of business once we get to dark space is to set up a Reaper dating service... you tin cans have a lot to learn."

"Timeline projection to reach Dark Space is two hundred and fifteen years," A Reaper provided a bit of useless data without being prompted.

Sighing, Shepard gave the glowing wall of data a disinterested glance before waving it away and restoring the empty space to darkness. "I guess... I'll just... think to myself." There were memories aboard the Normandy that Shepard did not want to share. She wanted to keep those all to herself, remembering them when it was all she had left.


	3. Rebirth

__GUH~! Well, apparently, I have bought a house. I somehow feel like I'm that same idiot who ____**nearly**____ set the kitchen on fire three times last year (which is all true) and part of me is praying to God I don't burn this house down! Thirty days! I have to pack, do adult-like things, and stop playing ME3 multiplayer mode long enough to get work done~!__

_… ___but then I go and look at my hilarious little pink krogan sentinel, runs into the middle of TERRIBLE THINGS, sets it all on fire, punches it in the face, and then explodes (tech armor woooo!)... and work becomes so hard to do!__

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><p><em><strong>Limbo – Chapter 3<strong>_

_**Rebirth**_

_**4/4/12**_

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><p>Garrus had been making himself scarce around the Normandy since Alenko's outburst. The squad was forbidden to leave the perimeter that Javik and Vega patrolled, but Garrus decided he really didn't give a damn and proceeded on his own duty roster of keeping guard. Running patrol meant less of a chance of bumping into EDI. For the good of the whole crew, it was best if he not get into another shouting match with the AI while she was trying to do her job.<p>

Sleep had been a rare commodity for the entire crew while they worked around-the-clock (which seemed to have a 34 hour period on this planet) to try to repair the Normandy. All engineers were working a double shift back to back, all except for Garrus. Kaidan had removed him from the duty roster all together, probably out of an attempt to corner the turian and have a friendly 'chat'. This meant not the real concept of the word 'chat', but the devious human version that seems to be employed when someone is about to get their ass chewed off. Ashley Williams had given him the advice back on the first Normandy that if a human superior officer ever wished to just have a 'chat', someone was in some deep shit... and so far her advice hadn't been wrong. In an attempt to avoid that, Garrus elected himself for lookout duty, and had spent nearly every minute since then moving around the perimeter.

Choosing a sniper position in the crest of a half dead tree, Garrus kept at the pretense he was acting as a good sniper. In all truth though, his aim was suffering badly from exhaustion and injury. He lifted his right hand to inspect a heavy bandage and spatters of Medigel that twisted around his trigger finger. During the final push to protect the missile launchers on Earth, a Brute had torn his rifle right out of his hands, breaking his finger and almost tearing the digit off in the process as it wrenched the gun off of him. Garrus could still remember the look on Shepard's face as she examined his injury.

Garrus' eyes were burning with exhaustion, he closed them for just a moment in an extended blink to try to soothe the itch. However the long blink morphed into his eyes staying closed._ 'It's fine',_ he resolved_, 'I can still listen for anything coming up the path while I rest my eyes'. _However, his thoughts didn't go much further than that. Not even twenty seconds later, he had fallen into an unexpected sleep.

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><p><strong>Earth – Final wave<strong>

Shepard's eyes were ringed with fatigue as she looked down at him from her perch, her shotgun held in both hands. The woman had all but _flown _across the battlefield as a biotic blue blur, planted both feet into the Brute's back and emptied her shotgun into it's neck until it slumped over feet from Garrus. Now she was standing on it's corpse with a complete disregard for the monstrosity that had nearly torn his arm off as it smacked his rifled away. Green eyes locked onto Garrus, the battlefield seeming so far away when under her gaze

"That pistol doing much for you?" Shepard tried to keep the normal teasing tone reserved for __'Boy, we nearly fucked that one up!'___ D_efending a missile launcher from __every __Reaper troop on Earth wasn't in the job description. At this point, the entire crew of the Normandy was convinced they giant cosmic bulls eye on them.

Blue spatters of blood were dribbling down to the elbow of Garrus' armor, injured hand curled safely against him. In his left hand he held the pistol that Shepard teased him mercilessly about carrying and never ever using. The assault rifle simply had too much recoil for only one hand, no matter how badass he insisted it would be to dual wield automatic weapons.

"Of course it is. It's lucky." Garrus would only say. It was the pistol he had carried since Omega. The one he had intended to use once the mercs managed to storm his barricaded safe house. 'Last Escape', he had named it, just like Zaeed had named his assault rifle 'Jesse' and Shepard had named her Spectre grade shotgun 'The Negotiator'. Only the Escape was never intended to be used on any enemy...only to deny those mercs on Omega the satisfaction of killing him themselves. When Shepard arrived – as she most often does – with a hail of bullets and biotics on Omega that the little pistol was denied even that use. Now he carried it as a reminder.

And because it packed a big, fucking boom. Leveling the hand cannon, Garrus popped a Marauder as it poked it's head over some rubble, shields completely negated in a single blast. Left-handed be damned, there was no way he could live down the amount of ribbing Shepard gave him about that pistol if he couldn't shoot worth shit with it.

"See, lucky." Garrus tucked the pistol back, his eyes narrowing at the sharp stab of pain in his hand.

"Although the there are so many Reapers here it's hard to miss." Shepard noted, halfway between tease and her dutiful Commander mode.

"Which would you prefer: the knowledge your personal sharpshooter is skilled enough to peg a Reaper at 180 yards with a pea shooter is watching out for you... or that a case of 'dumb-luck' has your six?"

Shepard tucked her shotgun away, hooking her hand around Garrus' elbow and hauling him steady, "What, can't we have both?"

"I wish. We could use some luck, right about now." Garrus tried to hold himself up straighter, but kept his injured gauntlet curled against his chest still.

Hammer squad caught up to them, a whole mess of Mako tanks with Anderson leading the way and James Vega driving the command vehicle. Shepard's team was pulled inside of one of the armored vehicles and they were whisked off to the Reaper's great teleporting back door. All three of them were shivering in a sudden absence of adrenaline now, anticipation keeping them going for the time being.

"Garrus, your hand!" Liara's breathless panting voice was weak from exhaustion. Shepard knew what the asari wanted when she held out her open hand to the commander, and she was immediately given the Medi-gel dispenser. Then the archeologist held her other hand out to the turian. Extending his arm, Garrus allowed Liara to carefully roll his wrist over to look at the damage.

"How bad is it, doc?" Garrus asked, wincing as his whole wrist felt like it creaked under her attempt to strip off the crumpled armor. Shepard's eyes watched silently, her face in it's cool Commander's mask.

While Shepard had the perfect poker face, Liara was like an open book with her friends. The asari looked horrified and nervous as she stripped off Garrus' armored glove and found it was pooled with blood as she drew out his hand. "It's broken, without a doubt... so much blood." Making a quick line with the Medi-gel, she cleared away as much of the gore as possible. "Your plating has buckled, at the very least you'll need a bone weave mesh." The Medi-gel formed a thin layer like a scab, stopping the bleeding but there was nothing it could do for broken bones.

The mask on Shepard's face still looked the same, but Garrus could _see _a tightening to it. For his skill at reading human and asari expressions, this one's meaning was lost on him. It was almost like she was trying to shut everything down and be that perfect commander the Alliance kept telling her to be...

There was a hideous crumpling sound of metal and the Mako came to a jarring halt with a wild slew of swearing from the Vega. Their tank could go no further. Anderson quickly went to go rally Hammer for the final push over open ground. A second wind of adrenaline fired up and Garrus clamored out of the ruined vehicle and instinctively reached over his shoulder to touch his sniper rifle.

At the slight contact his hand jerked back as dozens of shards of pain pulsed around his finger. There hadn't been enough medi-gel on hand to fully numb the area... the best Liara could do was stop the bleeding. Switching instead to touch the pistol at his hip, a warm hand closed around his wrist above the plating and stopped him.

Shepard was watching him. Her green eyes flickered with something before clearing back to that cool gaze. She hadn't quite got the infamous Commander's mask back up in time, and he could see the desperation. "Garrus. I want you to guard our flanks. Make sure Hammer isn't run down from behind. Vega, since you are here, help Liara hold forces back ... give Garrus room to breathe."

"What." It was shock, mostly, that had him blurt it out. "Wh-No. No, Shepard, I can-,"

Her warm hand moved up, this time her palm pressing against the bottom of his jaw and fingers bridging over his mouth. "No. This is not the time for second guessing anyone here. There has to be a backup plan... and that's you. Stand down." Her voice was frigid and terse, but she failed at hiding the slight tremble in her hand.

With her hand over his mouth, Garrus remained silent. Instead, he reached up with his armored glove and carefully ran the tip across her palm and moved it to his right side over the thick scar tissue. "I have your back." He murmured, eyes sliding closed and head bowing in defeat. Removing his hand from hers, he unholstered his pistol and passed it to her. "It's dangerous to go alone... take this for me."

The Last Escape wasn't Shepard's normal caliber of weapon, but she took it anyway and tucked it on her belt safely. She knew what the pistol represented, even if she didn't agree with the idea.

And then... she was gone.

* * *

><p>Adrenaline flushed any desire to sleep from Garrus system as he jolted awake, only staying in the crown of the tree due to his spurs bracing him on a branch. Exhaustion crawled in the marrow of every bone of Garrus' body and frequent but disturbing naps were the only thing keeping him going. It had been... what... three days since any sleep that lasted longer than thirty minutes? In humans this was a bad thing, for turians it was the imminent sign of someone about to get the equivalent of a category 6 discharge.<p>

Now every time he closed his eyes, he could see her face – Shepard's sly smile as she caught him in some sort of awkward moment or had some sort of completely half-assed plan of the type she was so skilled at. If he fell asleep, memories came back to life and he could feel the illusionary scrape of slender fingers between the instep of his plates.

Trying to ball his fist, the turian reveled in the pain as his finger protested the motion. Then he threaded his outer finger through the trigger guard, resting his injured digit along the magazine of the rifle. It was not an optimal grip though – it was the equivalent of a human pulling the trigger with their middle finger- and his aim suffered greatly. Chakwas would have a fit if she saw him trying to shoot things as is, but things had gone so far south they had more to worry about broken bones and buckled plates.

Things to worry about like being marooned on a planet that they had found was able to support levo-life forms. That was some good news. The bad news was it wasn't going to support dextro-life forms like him and Tali. Once the nutrient paste ran out, that would be it. If the ship wasn't fixed before then, it would be a long and slow death of starvation. Even if the ship was space worthy again, the mass relays were all destroyed. It would be a hundred years of traveling FTL, stopping to refuel at hydrogen based planets, and then returning to FTL travel. There was also the cruel logistics of time: the crew of the Normandy wouldn't live long enough to get anywhere. Except perhaps EDI and Liara.

"At least I'll be right behind you, Shepard." Garrus murmured, mandibles pulled tight against his jaw.

Gazing out at the planet, Garrus's sharp eyes drifted over innocuous hiding places, dark shadows, and lingers on movement caused by the fair breeze. The results of the patrol crew indicated was there were no hostile lifeforms of any type within range of the Normandy. Not even so much as a feral varren. Javik was in disgust at the complete lack of enemies after being so 'spoiled' by having all of them come after the Normandy. Still, standing guard even if he couldn't hit anything at least made a good pretense he was still contributing, even as his mind simply wandered off.

The brush crackled and Garrus' blue eyes pierced through the heavy leaves at the approaching target. However before it even came into sight, Garrus knew what was approaching based on it's heavy gait alone. "Yo." James pushed through the jungle, assault rifle cradled under his left arm while he shoved at the foliage. "Scars, you doing good up there? You're like this big angry eagle. With a sniper rifle."

Nodding, Garrus lowered his rifle to rest on his thigh but he said nothing.

"Not a whole lot out there. Some game, I guess. Javik found what might be a old prospectors mine, long abandoned though." James rested his back against the tree Garrus had scaled, looking out at the vegetation.

"What, no nickname for the prothean?" Garrus didn't want a reality check just yet, and kept the subject away from himself.

Snorting, James ran his hand over his messy mohawk. "Yeah, we have an agreement. I don't give him any nicknames, and he doesn't bury me up to my neck in an anthill. Fair trade, Scars. I was going to call him 'Fluffy'... but you know, I think I like existing." The marine had the look of someone who was trying to tread carefully on broken glass. Tact was so far from James' normal M.O. that he would have to go find a dictionary to look it up and then decide it was too much work and cram the dictionary somewhere uncomfortable.

Saying nothing, Garrus returned his gaze blankly to the tops of the trees.

There was a short pause, James quite obviously fighting with asking a question before he gave up and blurted it out. "'ey, do you think we can repair everything enough to limp home... or is Shepard going to have to lead another rescue mission to come and get us?"

The question hadn't been the one Garrus had expected. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of the question he had been dreading for the past three days. "Do you really believe that?" His voice was dull, fighting a bitter taste. Garrus wasn't quite sure what he was calling doubt to – Shepard's survival or their chances of repairing the Normandy and making it back to Earth.

Shrugging, James kept his gaze out on the jungle. "Sure, why not. It wouldn't be impossible to fix the ship. We've got __the ship herself __doing repairs, Cyan who apparently knows more about everything than anyone else, and Sparks – and if Spark's can't fix it, then it's defying the laws of physics and probably doesn't exist anymore. And the relays... ok, I admit, those I have no clue how they work – but someone has to know!"

James' attempt to diffuse the dark cloud over the turian was ineffective and the human could clearly see it, so instead the marine simply said, "It doesn't take long for the impossible to happen. Humans know that lesson well. Thirty years from humanity finding our first mass relay to suddenly being an accepted race in inter-galactic politics? People woulda said it was impossible back in the day. We just need some time."

Silent, Garrus stewed on this. James was often a fount of strange proverbs and random bullshit all at the same time. But this seemed that the impossible wasn't so impossible. Someone had to have analyzed a mass effect relay enough to be able to reproduce it. There had to be __some __quantum communicators still up to coordinate building a relay on both sides of the system to connect them. All it would take was time to rebuild.

Time, which... unfortunately Garrus and Tali were in short supply of. Approximately two boxes worth of nutritious 'time' in fact – which tasted like paste and grit.

It also left the odd fact that James believed that Shepard had survived the massive blue burst that originated from the Citadel. That was the part that had the sniper in such a confused state. "And Shepard? What makes you so sure she-," he cut himself off thought. Too soon... too painful.

James grinned. "Oh man, you've seen all that karma she's earned up ending war between the quarians and geth, curing the krogan, and generally Robin Hoodin' it up where ever possible? The most badass Robin Hood ever. Lola has GOT to have some massive stockpile of karma. Even after she decked that reporter!"

This was not a word Garrus was familiar with, his translator giving him a unsure verbal approximation of the word. "What's 'karma'?"

The human seemed to realize his squad mate hadn't been born with the hundreds of idioms and obscure lore that humanity took for granted. "Oh, it's uh... its part of this old religion philosophy. Cause and effect. Good deeds equal good karma. Bad deeds give bad karma. Originally karma was sort of 'redeemable at death' with some sort of rebirth. Now it mostly means 'you get what's coming to you, good or bad'."

One part of the definition had Garrus in an absolute fury, but the other meaning had him clinging to that last shard of hope. "So she deserved being at ground zero from that blast at the Citadel?" He asked, trying to keep the bitter dual-tone out of his words. "Or do you really believe in rebirth?"

James frowned, looking lost. "Shit man, no, she didn't deserve that. But life... isn't about what you deserve, right?"

"You've been talking to Tali." Garrus felt the anger quickly blow away. If anyone ever got to be the poster child for 'unfair', it was going to be Tali and Shepard. Yet the quarian accepted the burden with as much grace (if a bit less swearing) as Shepard did. Any wisdom Tali chose to impart was the result of someone who learned lessons the hard way. The little quarian had earned the right to be bitter and decided it hadn't suited her. She had long since earned Garrus' respect.

"Sparks is easy to talk to. … and easy on the eyes." A slight smirk twisted Vega's mouth. "And if there is rebirth... hell, I've seen some shit that would have some people swearing we just broke twenty laws of physics. This week alone! Stranger stuff has happened."

There was a long pause, and then James quickly added. "And that's if Shepard actually NEEDED that rebirth thing. I expect she escaped somehow by riding a space-faring shark into a wormhole and is freeing another unknown civilization. You know. Before lunch."

For the first time since the crash, Garrus felt a smile lift his mandibles. "Jimmy, I want you to give my eulogy when I die. Just planning in advance."

"Huh. So I should tell your mourning funeral masses one where we (and by 'we', I mostly mean 'I') save the universe, cure the genophage, and get all the damsels with our massive amounts of swagger?" James chuckled.

"Yeah, that one."

"Consider it in progress. Though I might have to add the part where you hijacked a missile to save a school bus full of orphans from the Reapers. Krogan orphans. Who decided to all call you 'Daddy Vakarian'." The marine was in full bullshit mode. "I'm sure it's worth a monument at the Citadel." James scratched at the long scar under his eye, considering his potential speech.

With his mood finally lifted enough to remove the metaphorical 'stick up his ass', Garrus' eyes lost their focus on keeping a lookout. The silence was comfortable with Vega here. His mind grew fuzzy again as the lack of fury that had been keeping him away caused his eyelids to slide closed. For a few seconds, his mind entered that hazy state between wakefulness and sleep.

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><p>The Normandy hadn't been equipped to suit turians. The chairs were all were fashioned to be ill fitting, the cots were too flat, and the sleep pods were just too small. Most of the time, Garrus had bunked in the battery, at first using the uncomfortable mattresses provided and then using a hammock rigging that Gardener had manged to procure. The chef's intention had been helpful, but even the hammock was just a bit too small though it was remarkably more comfortable than a mattress.<p>

Retreating at a limp from the Omega-4 relay, it took renting out a dock slot at Omega for a week before EDI would let the crew back onto the ship without wearing full EVA suits while in space. Even after a week of repairs, the Normandy wasn't at all 'fixed' yet, and duct tape might have been employed on some of the less serious damage sites. Grunt and Jack were put on duct tape duty, covering any pin holes they could find with the stuff, while Garrus, Legion and Tali went long hours trying to keep the rest of the ship held together. The geth had no complains with double shifts, but the two organic teammates were burned out.

Garrus was tucked into his hammock rig, legs hanging over the edge and battling a fatigue born of wrestling with the finicky batteries. A short nap, just a really short one he promised, and he would go back to work on the battery. He would find some time to rest and unwind later with a game of Skillian Five (though the bid of creative bets was probably going to cost him his first born if he kept on this losing streak), or teaching Grunt interesting turian swear words (he was now surprisingly proficient), or seeing if Shepard was still ticklish under her knees (she was __terribly __ticklish).

His eyes had been closed for maybe a few seconds, at most a minute, when he felt an odd sensation of something soft tickling his forehead plate. Grunting, he lifted his fingers and gave a lazy swish to brush away the object, but the tickling returned even as he swept it aside. Trying to move his head away instead by rolling to his side, he found he couldn't.

That got his eyes open. Sitting perched over his armored chest was a rather cynically amused commander. "Sleeping on duty? Insubordination. There are __rules ___against that, Vakarian." _Her red hair was just barely tickling his face as she loomed over him. Armor deadened the sensation of her sitting on him, but heat suddenly began to pool where she was perched.

"I'm sure using turians as chairs is going to cause some sort of international incident." Lifting a hand, his talons slid under her thighs, gliding down her coarse Cerberus uniform to hook into her drawn knees.

"I just saved the galaxy from Collectors, I think I'll be forgiven if this starts the Second Contact war." Small hands slide to the nape of his neck.

"Here's hoping for a __long war.__" Carefully pressing with his claws against the underside of her knees, Garrus was rewarded with the woman above him squirming with a surprised gasp.

"Tease." Green eyes, even dulled with exhaustion, sparkled gleefully. Batting one of his hands away, Shepard leaned forward until her forehead bumped against his chest. "I actually came down here to hide for a bit. I had the brilliant idea that I would take a nap while you were working, and if anyone came looking then you haven't seen me and you are busy 'calibrating'."

Garrus was distracted by the curtain of red hair now cascading down his armor. "The great Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, skiving off her duties? What has become so terrible that the woman who has listed the __Normandy __as a child-dependant on her tax records would come here to hide?"

Shepard smacked an open palm noisily into his armor. "Now that's a lie!"

"Once you file your 'I've been dead a year' taxes, I'm sure that one will be next." Garrus lifted Shepard's chin so her head lifted from his chest. Guiding her closer he leaned his forehead to hers. There was a sigh, soft and muted in the battery room.

"I was calling in a few favors. Just enough to make sure all these now Ex-Cerberus crew can return to earth without being all imprisoned. What they did took guts... even if they were recruited for the wrong reason, they all have their hearts in the right place. I just need a nap from the massive amounts of diplomatic bull I have to deal with." Shepard murmured, leaning against the unmovable form of her sniper. She looked about ready to fall asleep where she sat, only not rolling off the hammock because Garrus hand a grip around her knees and was keeping her straddling him.

Shocked into silence, Garrus realized he had been so busy trying to keep the Normandy together over the past week and reveling in this odd sort of …__whatever __it was he had Shepard had that he hadn't even noticed what she had been doing during her long shift. "How are you managing that?"

Chuckling, Shepard rubbed her face against the leathery side of Garrus' neck. "I tried saying _'they followed me into space... I have to keep them now'_, but Anderson was pretty sure that wouldn't float. So we're falling back onto the old standby of _'The Commander made me do it'_ as an excuse."

Long fingers tightened around Shepard's legs. "So we're all going to be dragging your name through the mud to get out of any trouble from your Alliance? Shepard, I'm not doing that." This wasn't the request of a gunnery officer to his CO, this was the unyielding word of someone who refuses to watch as their partner takes a fall for them.

Shepard only continued to nuzzle at his neck. "Oh, that's not going to be your excuse. Or any of the combat squad's reasons. Samara is untouchable – Justicar code. Jack is a 'victim' of Cerberus, easy enough. Grunt... well... Anderson speaks for the might of the Alliance when he says no one wants a teenage krogan in the brig. Tali has the full diplomatic sway of the Migrant Fleet to protect her, and she is keeping Legion out of Alliance hands using that and more cunning that any quarian has a business of having."

There was a long pause from the woman as she suddenly mouthed at Garrus' throat, causing a surprised hiss from the turian. "Everyone else wanted to slide under the radar – no recognition in exchange for no trouble. I'm just at a bit of a loss what to do with you. What's your exit plan once we land?"

There was a teasing twitch to the tickling fingers. "I figured they'd just let me have a nice brig cell next to yours. Conjugal visits...maybe?"

"If I could get away with that..." Shepard's voice carried a tone of wist, something that rarely colored her words.

Garrus gave her his honest thoughts for the upcoming war. "I thought I'd go back to Palaven. There has to be something I can do to get the planet's defenses ready for the Reapers. If you want a technical loophole, I think I can call my father if-"

Shepard's hand was grasping for his, removing it from her knee. "No. I've got your loophole covered. You are the one who pulled me out of Cerberus. Congratulations Vakarian, you are a hero. There might be a parade in your honor, but don't expect a statue on the Citadel."

Surprised, Garrus blinked up at the woman sitting on his waist. "You don't have to do that, I didn't-,"

"You did. Always have my six, and always have. I needed someone to keep my grounded, and you were there." Leaning forward, Shepard rubbed her forehead against his again. "Thanks."

Garrus moved quite suddenly, his hands up to Shepard's waist, shifting in the hammock so he could roll her to rest in the netting rather than perched on his armor. The move was a lot less debonair than he was going for and fell into the awkward category as the hammock quickly became entangled on armor, spurs, and limbs. "Hmm, and I think I just realized why you never see hammocks made for two."

"Well if I wasn't having some sort of turian-human liason with you, I'd certain be now." Shepard was flush against Garrus' armor from ankle to neck, her soft body molding to his. There was a wry smile on her lips.

* * *

><p>And just like that, Garrus wasn't tired anymore as he jerked violently from sleep. He was terrified, angry, and devastated all at once and his neck tingled from the sensation of fingers that hadn't touched him. "I'm going back to the Normandy." Swinging his legs out of the tree, Garrus landed lightly on the soft soil.<p>

James gave him a suspicious look, fully aware Garrus had nodded off up in the tree and making no effort to disguise it. "Aw'right Scars. I think the Boy Scout wanted to try to have a leader-chat with you when you get back." He warned.

Garrus groaned. "And now, I really don't want to go back again. Thanks." He drawled, his voice hitting a less than harmonious pitch. "Boy Scout? Really?"

A wide and crooked grin spread over James' face. "Hey. Call it like I see it. Say hi to Cyan for me... she's got to be going loco with Joker tied ten feet away from her station." The marine crooked his assault rifle back into his arm and pushed aside a heavy branch to continue on his rounds.

Shouldering the rifle, Garrus took careful measured steps back along the route he had taken to the Normandy. The ship's steering fins were visible above the treeline and it was impossible to lose the ship even in the dense jungle. Stepping into the clearing revealed Liara still working on her console trying to force a connection with the quantum communicator. Joker was 'backseat driving' the Information Broker as she worked. It looked like the even tempered woman was only a few moments away from heaving a singularity at the brittle boned pilot.

Joker stopped his 'advice' the moment he spotted Garrus. "Hey! Kaidan has been looking for you. I think he's worn a path around the Normandy circling it trying to find you."

"Uh-huh. And I suppose you kept telling him he 'just missed me'?" Garrus reached down as he passed by and jerked Joker's cap sideways.

The pilot made an offended noise, quickly pulling the cap straight again. "Dammit! Stop that! If I wasn't sure that punching you would shatter my hand, I'd slug you so hard, Vakarian. Just for that, I'm ratting you out to Alenko." Joker leaned over and his hand swiped over his omni-tool, activating it where it rested on the table next to the medpod. "Hey Kaidan, Garrus is totally done __calibrating __whatever it is he was doing." Garrus snorted at the mention of 'calibrations'.

"I'm coming out. Don't let him go calibrate any more stuff. Seriously, chasing him around for the past 12 hours as he calibrates everything. I swear, calibrations must be code for something." Kaidan's voice came from the omni-tool, frustrated.

Joker snickered. "Hey Kaidan... speaker was on for that, and he's right here."

"... crap." Kaidan hissed a reply before cutting off his connection.

"Think he knows what 'calibrations' are code for?" Joker leaned heavily to the side to return the omni-tool to the table.

"I'm not sure if __you__are aware... but 'calibrations' is code for 'calibrations', mostly." Garrus shook his head, amused.

"Sure sure, call it what you want. I think all us know the truth." Joker leaned back against the bed, much to smug for someone taunting an ex-vigilante.

Standing awkwardly with his rifle cast over one shoulder next to the medpod, Garrus had only to wait a few minutes before Kaidan exited the Normandy in his full hardsuit gear. Condensation immediately formed dew on the armor as it went from super-heated engine room to a rather mild temperature. Stumbling down the lowered ramp, Kaidan reached up to take his helmet off and then quickly decided against it as long as it was steaming.

"Ok, I had a speech planned and everything, but now the hell with it. It was a crappy speech anyway. But we all did our best, we did as we were ordered, and there is nothing we can change but beating ourselves up over it isn't the right thing either. I'm just going to tell you we need you to get your act together and – to,..." Kaidan paused. "I sound like I'm mothering you."

"Yeah... just a bit." Joker turned the sarcasm on full. Garrus only kept a level stare at Kaidan.

"_The point is-_." Kaidan stopped Joker from his sarcasm-based tirade before it could derail further. "I know all of us are unsure of what's happening, and the lack of our Commander is – it's... hard. And truth be told, the Normandy ran a lot smoother when you were the XO than when I assumed the acting-CO position." Kaidan paused, his eyes dropping from the cool stare of the turian. "Look, we all know about you and Shepard. I made a bad judgment call based on that. I thought you wouldn't be able to function with Shepard... gone. Removing you from the roster wasn't the right thing to do. And I'm sorry. Right now, the entire crew of the Normandy needs you back, and I need someone to watch my back too."

Garrus no longer felt any rage or frustration, instead he felt like an insubordinate recruit being reprimanded for the first time. Kaidan was correct, he was not coping well with his duties removed and with Shepard being... not here. However having no duties on top of that was making the problem worse.

Without closure on what happened to Shepard at the Citadel, Garrus found he had started falling down the same slope as when she had been killed by the Collectors. He was slowly losing focus, and without at least a repetitive and mindless task he was going to do something as stupid as the whole Omega thing. Kaidan was still the same good soldier he had been back on the first Normandy – duty to the crew first – and right now he was trying to pull Garrus out of the mire he was bogged in. It was sad when Kaidan made a better turian than he did, but at this point it was pretty much common knowledge he was a lousy turian.

"Spirits, how did you manage?" Garrus' voice rasped, the feeling of loss growing thicker. "How did you keep going when you had lost her?"

"I lost her twice, Garrus. Once to the Collectors, and once to my own fault. Kinda obvious I wasn't as well 'managed' as you seem to think..." Kaidan said softly, his voice not carrying to the others. "After Horizon was able to go on knowing that if I didn't live up to her expectations, I could never face her again in whatever lies ahead. I knew when Shepard brought __everyone __back from her mission on the Collectors, I would be on Earth to see her and prove I was ready for the Reapers and that I still believed her. The Shepard I knew wouldn't fail against the Collectors, whether I was with her or not. I won't see you fail either. I'm going to get __all __of the Normandy back to the Citadel, and the Normandy is only what it is because of all of us."

The human had only a pale shadow of Shepard's determination, but right now it was brighter than the turian could stand. Shepard – so determined not to lose even a single soldier against an impossible enemy – had pulled Kaidan by the collar to follow in her footsteps to watch out for those she loved. The woman had tried to make everyone on her team into a beacon for their people; Tali had become an Admiral in the Fleet under Shepard's guidance, Liara had learned to look up and find the secrets lying everywhere and not just the ones in the dirt, Wrex found that survival wasn't the only part of life and was willing to pummel it into his people's thick armored heads to get the point across, and he had found the strength to insist Shepard was right the whole time and swallow his pride to ask his father for help and ready the turian forces.

Unable to speak, Garrus nodded, his head bowed. "You are such a boy scout." He said, his voice deeply pitched.

"Uh... thanks, I think." Kaidan scratched at his face, forgetting the helmet kept his hands away from his cheeks. "Hey, if you have time, suit up. Traynor thinks she can jury-rig a new comm array if we can hijack all the power we can spare from the battery. It might not be efficient, but it could get the job done."

Exhausted, emotionally spent, and still lost in his memories Garrus nodded in agreement. If he stopped trying now, how could he face Shepard in that eternal bar?


	4. Lessons Learned the Hard Way

__ANTS? WTF, get off my keyboard, you ants! And if there are ants in my motherboard, I am going to be PISSED. A lesson has been learned today... do not put your laptop next to a plate that once held cake and leave them both outside while you goof off. You will return to fine the plate COVERED in ants, and your laptop take 'ant-based splash-damage'. Thank god for pressurized canned air.__

__This has been "Lessons Learned the Hard way – by Kit".__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Limbo<strong>_

_**Chapter 4 – Lessons Learned the Hard Way**_

_**4/8/12**_

* * *

><p>According to the Reaper tech-equivalent of a clock – (<em>"God, can't you even be bothered to tell time in this cycles Galactic Standard, instead of since the beginning time itself? That's a lot of fucking zeros.")<em>- it had been only one day since Shepard had unleashed her lecture on friendship to the Reapers. She had spent the rest of the time since then combing each Reaper's databases, trying to find any sort of sign that showing them gestures of friendship might make them comprehend the sensation. The Reapers seemed to have written the sensation off as temporary and ignored the whole event.

"You bastards, it's time for Lesson number two: Yet more fucking friendship." Shepard grit out, a dark grin spreading on her face.

There was a deep rumble throughout the connection,... not quite __whining __per say, but definitely discomfort.

"Suck it up, Buttercup." Shepard smirked, her old drill sergeant from N7 training channeling through her. "When I'm done with you ladies, you'll be reciting the N7 creed like you all have a quad! In fact, I'm going to teach you girl scouts how to be marines when I'm done! The standard to be a marine is to have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any soldiers out there. Do I make myself clear!"

There was a resonate silence to her drill sergeant outburst. If there had been crickets in space, they would have been chirping.

"Fucking killjoy."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Recall Memory 202: Normandy SR-2, <strong>_

While memories of Cerberus caused general rage and frustration, there were a few that had reached a treasured position in her heart. After all, they had brought her back, given her the Normandy, and returned the ship's 'permanent fixture' pilot.

"Come on, Commander, you think I was just going to sit back while Cerberus brought in some flight school newbie? First of all, I could pilot a Thresher Maw with an eezo core and rocket strapped to it's back for you. And secondly, a new recruit wouldn't be bullet proof enough for your tastes-," Joker chuckled, scratching at his neck.

"Yeah, but you have to admit flying a theoretical Thresher Maw into battle would be killer for a reputation." The Commander smiled, leaning over his chair to peer down at him.

"Well...yeah that is true... but good luck strapping yourself into that!" Joker paused. "The difference between a good pilot and __me __is I know when to dodge, and I can make the Normandy dance for you. And speaking of that. I know the whole 'keep your friends close' thing is generally to prevent backstabbing... but in your case I think it might be _'cause taller and heavily armored friends are rocket magnets'_. Your turian meat shield needs a lesson in that." Garrus was under endless ribbing from Joker about the whole 'rocket to the face' incident, as it was now being known as.

"'That' what? Dodging or Dancing?" Shepard looked over at EDI, who was watching the interaction curiously, her blue glowing avatar emulating a blink every few seconds.

Joker's hands moved continuously over the controls even deep in conversation. "They aren't mutually exclusive, Commander. If you can dodge bullets, you can tear up the dance floor. If you can dance, you can dodge those asari commandos that seem to have it out for out."

"Records indicate that Commander Shepard possesses no skill in dancing nor any alacrity towards it." EDI reported, pulling this information from god knows where.

Shepard shrugged. "Can't deny the truth."

The pilot was shocked speechless, a first that Shepard vowed she would never forget. "Y-you can't dance?" He breathed in shock. "But that's – you... I've seen you move through a battle field! You can go untouched from one side to the other, kick a krogan in the quad, and then dodge a hail of bullets while putting the biotic smack down on his friend."

"If you think that's dancing, I've obviously been going to the wrong bars." Pushing up from the back of Joker's chair, Shepard looked down towards the CIC. "When you find one that has that kind of dancing, let me know. And Garrus too. He could use some dodging tips."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_**Recall Memory 234: Normandy SR-2, **_

Burn wounds were definitely Shepard's least favorite kind of wounds – of course ALL wounds sucked, but burns were especially despised. "Who the fuck gives Vorcha flamethrowers? They can barely figure out zippers, for god's sake!"

Miranda was nursing a burned arm, cradling it carefully across her lap as they sat on the tables of the Medbay. "Well, seems like the krogan gave it to them. Take from that what you will," the Cerberus member said through grit teeth. Dr. Chakwas was trying to sluice away the damaged skin to clean the area.

"Oh good. For a second I thought it made sense they had found them all on their own, and mastered rocket science too." Shepard hissed as Mordin carefully pressed a slick lotion into the burn at her shoulders. "How are you doing over there?"

Jacob was face down on another medical table, the upper part of his armor off and a blistering and inflamed burn across his back and shoulders. "I think that could have __only __gone worse if we had all doused ourselves in kerosene first. We all ended up with matching scars out of the deal. Please tell me this isn't a requirement for the Normandy, because I am not taking a rocket to the face for you Shepard."

Shepard bit her lip in an attempt to keep grimace off her face as Mordin began unpeeling the melted neoprene suit from her arm. "Good. I think only Garrus can pull that kind of spectacular miracle out of his ass –,"

_"- but that's where he keeps the pole!" _Joker interrupted over the speaker system.

"Jeff!" Chakwas scolded. "This is an active med-lab, not a social function! Unless you are going to come down here for the treatment you've been avoiding for the past two days... please kindly mind your own business."

There was a click as the pilot quickly disconnected before Chakwas could work herself into a full mom-rage and drag him down by his ear to insist on treatment.

"At least we have Dr Mordin helping with the Collectors now." Miranda nodded at Mordin as he finally removed the ruined suit from Shepard's arm. She was professionally polite to the salarian and more than a little grateful at the two medical officers now on board when the entire shore-party crew comes back covered in burns and bullet wounds.

"Saved a city from a plague, found a new doctor for the clinic, set some vorcha on fire... it was an eventful trip. Leaves a sense of closure." Mordin took a long breath through his nose, looking carefully at his treatment. "Though in the future, I would advise against biotically charging into flamethowers. Is... problematic... in melee range."

"Well Miranda, think you can keep that promise with me?" Shepard smirked.

"No argument from me. Though I suppose the question is why did you charge in after us, Jacob?" She turned, looking at the man flopped over on the bed.

"Because who the fuck gives flamethrowers to vorcha." Was Jacob's answer.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 242: Purgatory, **_

"Grunt." Shepard greeted by means of throwing herself over a wall of rubble and landing beside the crouching krogan.

"Battlemaster." The young krogan nodded in return, shotgun in both hands and bleeding from a wound just below his crest.

"What's the plural of 'YMIR'?" Shepard panted, reloading her own shotgun.

This took the male by surprise, and he blinked slowly. Shepard had been throwing questions at him as they fought through this madhouse jail. The first were basics in _'what is your favorite food'_... and since Grunt hadn't been awake enough to eat a whole lot, it became _'what food would you like to eat then?' _When Grunt couldn't tell a pancake from a plate, the Commander drilled his knowledge to see what else Okeer had left out.

"YMIR. Large autonomous mech. Wouldn't it... just be 'mechs'?"

Something exploded on the other side of the rubble wall, sending chips of concrete cascading down on them. "Probably could, but that's cheating. A group of birds is a flock, of group of fish is a school... but what is a group of mechs? Besides, that might be ok for two or three of them. But what is the plural for __that__many?" Lifting her chin with the word, Shepard indicated the other side of the wall.

Grunt peered around the barricade, went rigid, and barely pulled back in time as two rockets and a hail of bullets peppered the rock. "Shepard... that is twenty mechs."

"Pick a plural for that many. We'll call it that from now on, because I have no doubts that won't be the last of them." Shotgun reloaded, Shepard set her barriers up again, prepared to biotically charge the first mech and then pinball down their ranks to the last one.

Thinking it over, a slow leer spread over the young male's face. "I'm going with a __party __of mechs."

The Commander reached over at pat him on his armored shoulder. "Atta boy. Now... take this rocket launcher and go blow up that party and don't tell Zaeed I let you borrow it. Otherwise I'll never get it back."

Christmas came early for Grunt that year, based on his expression alone. If krogan were prone to picking up humans and hugging them, Shepard would have suffered several broken ribs, a deflated lung, and a massive bruise to her pride.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 287: Normandy SR-2, **_

In the middle of a 'pissing contest' with Jack, Shepard was pretty sure she had no chance on beating the convict at this game. "Yeah? I once stopped a nuke planted as a trap by some pirates when there was only ten seconds left on the countdown." Shepard set her challenge out, positive Jack could outdo it without breaking a sweat.

"They gave you a countdown? Daaaaym, I would have __killed __for a countdown when those fuckers on that colony set up a bomb to go off once I entered a room. Barely got my barrier up in time. Also ruined my fun afterwards, blew themselves up as well." Jack sneered, clearly enjoying the game.

"To be fair, it was just the 'trouble squad' and I back then – Ash and Wrex along for the ride... and I disarmed a nuke by shooting it." Shepard shrugged.

Jack laughed uproariously. "Oh god, how the hell have you lived this long? You'd think you'd have some fucking tech skills at this point."

"That's what Garrus is for." Shepard laughed softly. "You would not believe the chewing out he gave me that day for not having a tech along with. Uppity turian, sometimes."

There was a sudden grin that spread across the biotics face. "Ah, so you take that spikey bastard with just to defuse bombs?"

"He's good for more than disarming traps-," And the second Shepard said it, she knew she had walked __right __into a trap based on the leer now on the tattooed woman's face. "... God dammit Jack, I didn't mean it like that and you know it." Scowling, Shepard watched as Jack broke into frantic laughter.

Jack's grin didn't fade though but she did continue on with the challenge game. "So...I once got jumped by a biotic hanar. He was all __'I require your credits, or your life. It is your decision, please make it post haste.' __Then he threw me across the fucking room!"

"A biotic __hanar___?_" Shepard's expression was a cross between absolute confusion and amusement. "How would that even work? Where would they put the implant?"

The two of them sat there, pondering this for a second. Then they both came to the same conclusion simultaneously: __they did not want to know.__

"My turn?" Shepard asked rather rhetorically, trying to find something worth the challenge of a biotic hanar. "Ok, so for almost a year, I had a murderous tank living the docking bay of the old Normandy. I swear, whenever there was a ground unit nearby, I would lose control and the Mako would try to go on a killing spree. Ash actually called in a priest to try to 'exorcise' it... instead it just jammed the exhaust manifold. In the end, I had to give it the title of Senior Support Vehicle in order to appease it... just it case it decided to murder us in our sleep."

Amused disbelief crossed Jack's face. "Ok, Joker totally told me that story already. That doesn't count. And also, … was your pet turian in the vehicle at the time whenever your 'Senior Support Vehicle' started acting up?"

Shepard recoiled a little at Jack's suspiciously accurate observation. There was wide grin on Jack's face as the biotic watched the Commander failed at an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Actually, the grin got upgraded quickly into 'leer' status. "Well, lookit that. Seems like the Commander is trying to keep an eye on the sniper, who is keeping an eye on her. It's like this circle of stalking... only slightly more creepy because there are guns involved."

Now determined to either win this contest or derail the whole thing, Shepard used her ace in the hole. "I ever tell you about the time tried to help this girl out of an undercover sting at Chora's Den? This detective... Chellik I think, insisted I had to go and play nice with some mercs and get him some smuggled goods without starting anything __or__I had to either take the girl's place for the evening to get the information... uniform of Chora's Den included."

This got Jack's attention: it had Chora's Den, mercs, smugglers, and a hard-ass C-Sec detective; it was an epic story. "God, how much shit did you start with these mercs?" The biotic grinned, now distracted again.

"None. I figured there was __no way __I was going to be able to do that plan without giving something away or shooting those mercs. So instead I put on that damn Chora's Den outfit and bar-tended for the night to get the info he wanted. … Picked up about $500 in credits for tips too."

Jack fell off her cot laughing.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 291: Normandy SR-2, Incident **_

The next memory, the Reapers seemed to sense what was about to be shown. They resisted. The memory had Shepard and Tali both in the observatory room, with the quarian sobbing brokenly against the Commander's shoulder. The Reapers resisted again. __'We do not want to see this.'__

"_Cry me a river." _Shepard pushed harder on the memory, everything was moving slowly as if escaping from a stasis field. With a final push, the memory lost the tension holding it still and snapped back into action.

The silence of the room was broken periodically with the muted sound of sobbing. Tali had turned off her helmet speaker in an attempt to silence her crying, but even that couldn't fully quiet the sounds. The quarian was devastated, the trial of treason had ended with the 'diplomatic' yelling of Shepard and the whole thing was written off as a success. Except the young engineer still bore the knowledge of what happened. Her own father, disregarding everything they had all worked for and risking destruction of the fleet – for what? For a building? On a planet they couldn't even live on without their suits anymore?

The Commander held one arm around Tali's shivering shoulders, wincing every time a sob escaped. It was a wound that would take time to heal, but for every cry the quarian gave, it made Shepard want to hurt something in retaliation. However the person responsible for causing so much pain was already dead, and the dead sometimes had the best of intentions in their plans. There was no use holding a grudge against Rael'Zorah. For Tali's sake, he was willing to endanger his own life – and foolishly the life of the fleet.

Shepard leaned over the quarian, her head bumping into the side of Tali's helm. "I would do something stupid like that too, you know. Risk everything just to see the people I love happy again."

This didn't feel like the right then to say when Tali's sob hitched up in volume.

A slight 'pop' and Tali's helmet speakers turned on with a watery sob. "I don't want that! I don-don't want anyone else to get hurt because of some planet. Shepard, if you died, what would we all do against the R-reapers? What would any of us do?" Her voice was fragmented by emotion and she choked on several words as sobs fought to free themselves.

Rocking from side to side gently, swaying Tali with her, Shepard responded calmly. "Someone would step up when needed. There is nothing that I can do that someone else can't."

"Bosh'tet." Tali muttered. "You are the Normandy."

Shepard teased carefully, "I'm flattered, but don't think you guys are riding around space on my back. The Normandy is just a ship – what makes it different is the crew, and you will always be at it's heart."

Tali burst into another round of tears, her helmet speckling with water droplets from the inside. Shepard felt like an ass again. She was built for combat, not for comfort. Making her friends cry was the most terrible sensation she had experienced. Shepard reached over and cupped her palm to the back of Tali's head, stroking the crown of her skull as sobs shook the quarian's small frame.

The door opened and light flooded into the dimly light observatory, casting Garrus in a sharp silhouette as he froze in the entry way. His eyes darted from Tali, hunched over against Shepard's shoulder making mournful noises and to the Commander who's gaze said clearly she needed more help. There was no invitation to enter extended – but then again there really didn't need to be. Between the three of them, a heavy foundation of trust had slowly been built, taking it's beating but enduring all the while.

Without a word, Garrus moved around the sofa and sat next to Tali, one of his hands sliding across her back to box the quarian in between him and the human. He sat there, saying nothing, the rocking movement that Shepard swayed with Tali also moving in time with him. Slowly, Tali's sobs diminished, and she struggled to get her breathing back under control.

One of Tali's thin, three-fingered hands was clutching Shepard's wider palm and her other hand grasped Garrus' own matching digits. Both gave the hand a reassuring squeeze, and the trembling subsided just a bit.

"So. I hear these group hugs are therapeutic and supposed to help. … is it working yet?" Garrus asked softly, unsure.

"I don't know. Now I just want to cry because I'm happy." Tali sobbed.

Smiling softly, Shepard only rocked Tali as if lulling a child to sleep. "That, I can deal with."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 321: Normandy SR-2, **_

Shepard had accepted Samara's offer to meditate after a particularly exhausting mission. Normally the Commander would gain enough tranquility just by entering the room and having a seat next to Samara to talk for a bit, but today she was in need of something stronger to soothe her stress. Shepard was only mildly surprised to see Thane in the observatory rather than in the life support chamber. The drell was sitting lotus position on the floor, in the darkest corner and with his head bowed. Shepard nodded by way of greeting to him as she took her own seat.

"Thane often comes here to reflect. It is...," Samara paused, considering, "- introspective to have a companion to meditate with. Things that would have gone unnoticed can be brought up and reflected on."

Saying nothing, Shepard only nodded again, straightening her back and assuming a meditative position. Blue biotic energy hummed, causing the air to vibrate around her for a few moments. However unlike Samara's control, Shepard could not maintain it for long and the blue flickered away as she heaved a frustrated sigh.

"You have been preoccupied." With a politeness taught by hanar, Thane craned his head slightly to the Commander.

"Suicide missions tend to keep your attention on work." There wasn't much to say on the matter, though she knew what Thane was getting at. Shepard had felt irritation at the drell's astute observation.

Thane tipped his head to the side, eyes dropping to Shepard's hands. "There are things that you take upon your self so as not to burden your crew. You have toughened your self to be a shield for the Normandy. But we wish to protect you, as well. We do not all need to be shielded."

Shepard didn't know what to say. Her crew was all she had at this point, the only ones in a galaxy of chaos who trusted her. True, they were all vital to the mission and were a 'resource' provided by Cerberus in some way, but each of their well-being was vital to Shepard's own. The woman could not function knowing she didn't do everything she could for them.

"You have a bright soul, but you bear a mask hardened by fury. Those that do not know you, cannot see this." Thane sounded older, tired, the voice of someone who had worn a mask for too long as well.

"I'm disconnected then?" Shepard asked, recalling this drell term used previously.

"No. Just a disturbance being caused between the actions of the soul and the words of the body. They do not match." Thane's dark eyes caught the light from the window for a moment.

Samara interjected. "Let us carry our individual burdens so you do not have to. No one gets any stronger by letting someone else do all the work. It is an old asari idiom."

Shepard wasn't quite sure how to let them 'bear their burdens' on their own. It had become such a deep part of her to do this that Shepard could not remember a time when she didn't try to shield her teammates, even back in the N7 program. "I'm not sure I can just 'stop' worrying about everyone. You are my crew. And my friends."

"It is a great honor to be friends with someone who commands the same loyalty she gives to what she receives." Graciously, Samara smiled as if she had been given a great gift.

Thane too seemed to have been honored by this simple declaration of friendship. "I am your weapon by choice, I do not expect you to shield me... but if you do I too will watch your back."

"I think I have the best defended back in the galaxy at this point. Toughen you guys up a little and maybe I'll fight the Collectors by running at them in reverse." Shepard put both her palms on her knees, still sitting lotus on the floor.

Samara remained perfectly straight, but she opened her eyes from meditation. "I have spoken to Tali. She mentioned something about 'Shepard driving in reverse over a small squadron of geth and finishing off into a lurking Thresher Maw with the Mako'. … was that part of your plan then too? To show your back to your enemy and advance on them?" There was a teasing glint to the asari's eyes.

"Plan? Oh no, we would get into the Mako when we __didn't__have a plan, and just drive like we stole it. It just so happened that in the act of driving away, things would just … kind of tossed themselves into our path." Closing her own eyes, Shepard reached for 'inner peace', but would settle for a nap. Thane's amused chuckle saw Shepard off as she slipped into a brief nap.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 324: Omega, **_

Legion's slightly pidgeon-toed walk left him only two feet behind Shepard as he followed her. If the woman stopped abruptly, she was afraid the geth was going to run into her. Personal space did not seem to be a 'geth thing'.

"Shepard-Commander?" The unit had a questioning tone to his laconic speech.

"Yes, Legion?" Shepard was careful not to change her pace. Having a metal geth run into her might be justice for the destruction the old Mako had wrought upon them at one point... but it was probably worth at least a concussion as well.

Shepard had taken Legion as well as Garrus has part of her shore party to Omega. It was the first contact Legion had with organics outside of the Normandy, and the geth was proving to be curious Omega. Garrus was also picked because if everything went sidesways, merging into the filth and smoke to escape was easier here than anywhere else, and the sniper had long since learned every back route in this place.

"We believe that our presence is causing distress among the organics." Legion's head swiveled to peer at a small crowd whispering nearby. Several batarians were staring at Legion, disbelief in all four eyes. A group of human women did a double-take at the sight of the geth and yet another double-take when they realized it was Commander Shepard as well.

"It's... for the movie." Shepard had raised her hand to wave them all off. "The Citadel... you know. Publicity stunt." The bluff fell from her lips easily.

There was a physical sensation of 'oh yeah!' and the tension went markedly down. One of the humans smiled, nodding to them and quickly heading on her way all chattering and excitement to tell her friends. The batarians seemed suspicious, but they pulled back into their conversation, more distrustful of the human than of the geth.

"There. Problem solved."

"Shepard-Commander. We have a question. About the referenced movie." Legion asked, his voice modulating a little higher to indicate a question.

The Commander did not want to see the planned Citadel movie, hear anything about it, and had pretty much told the crew if they were still obsessing over 'who was going to play Shepard', she was going to make them eat the cook's 'casserole surprise' (the surprise being it was twenty four kinds of toxic).

"Well, ok then. What's your question about movies, exactly?" Unsure what the geth wanted exactly, Shepard continued walking lest he run into her.

"The fictional movies are a form of story-telling, but what is the point of the non-fiction ones? There are many articles on the extranet, data plates, records, historical archives, all off them exist with the non-fiction information recorded onto them. Why do organics use movies for non-fiction if the data already exists?" Legion slowed down a little, his bright eye beam twisting into a smaller dot. "Based on forums on the extranet, a good portion of the organics are offended at the way the non-fiction is retold via movie."

"Do you have one movie in particular I can use as an example?" Shepard had a feeling Legion had put all 1183 of his programs into this question and they hadn't turned up a valid answer during the consensus.

"Yes." Legion came to a complete halt now. Shepard stopped and turned to face him, Garrus only looked back over his shoulder from the Commander's side. "Five year old movie produced by a turian publication. It is based on the Relay 314 incident and the resulting battle at Shaxi."

If Shepard could find anything to say other than a rather unintelligent __'oh',__she couldn't think of it.

"While the film portrays events that did occur, it only tells the turians side of the encounter, and embellishes the fact that the humans had 'an entire battle ready fleet' at Shanxi." Legion gestured with one hand emphatically.

Garrus cleared his throat awkwardly, "It... was to build suspense. To show that humans weren't just accidental upstarts, but capable of looking out for their own. I guess it does kind of cast humans in a 'deadly nemesis' kind of roll, and I'm certain they had to invent the human female Commander who kept thwarting the leading turian actor's attempts at routing out the guerrilla fighters at every turn. Someone who can contentiously fend off a turian for that long can't possibly be real." The bastard was quite obviously teasing his commanding officer again.

"Really?" Shepard asked, shaking her head in amusement, reaching out to playfully shove Garrus out of her personal bubble of space. "I haven't had time to sit down and watch any new movies for... wait... when did you say this came out?"

"Five years." Legion spoke laconically.

"... god dammit I need some real shore leave some day." Shepard sighed. "Regardless of what the point was of making humans look more terrifying that we really are with our devastating flat teeth, blunt nails, and amazingly resistant soft pink skin-," This part was aimed at an obvious tease at Garrus, who grunted and shook his head in amusement, "-movies are made for entertainment. It's damn near impossible to find anything entertaining during a war while you are dodging bullets. Unless everyone remembers our history, some idiot is going to be bound to repeat it. So they water down history into something that the average person with their average attention span can muster through."

The geth looked over at Shepard, the armor plates around his head flexing outwards as he considered this.

"Well?" Shepard asked, wondering if her message had gotten across.

"We are gathering a consensus, no data available yet, Shepard-Commander." Legion shook his head, falling back into step behind the woman.

With the geth following again, Shepard went to head down towards Afterlife, but Garrus caught her arm. "Wait, if we're going to be asking questions about movies, isn't the best place to do it in a theater?"

"Is this some sort of devious turian plot to lure a fictitious but dangerous human into lowering her guard?"

"Only the most devious of plots." Mandibles fluttering in a grin, Garrus kept a slight pressure on the back of Shepard's arm to guide her down the halls in a different direction. "And I can promise this movie doesn't cast humans in an unfavorable light."

Shepard didn't have to look back over her shoulder to make sure Legion was following. He was there, two feet behind her, and walking with his pidgeon-toed march. "Does it cast turians in an unfavorable light?"

"Nope."

"Geth?"

"No."

"Then it's either perfect and we should go see it, or it's going to be boring and I'll be taking a nap and drooling on whoever sits to my right side." Shepard sagged slightly to her right, entering the posture of a human was fighting sleep and slowly losing the fight against gravity.

"Thanks for the warning... Legion, you sit on her right."

"Yes." Was all Legion said.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_**Recall Memory 358: Normandy SR-2, **_

The next memory the Reapers did not resist at all. For every other memory Shepard had run through, they had put up moderate to serious resistance, yet even at their best they could not stop her from sharing her memories any more than they could stop her from sharing emotions through their connections.

The memory had Shepard sitting next to Garrus in the mess. The turian was absolutely livid. The whole issue with Sidonis – choosing to spare him and incite her friend's anger – it had blown over a good week ago. It had taken only a day for the turian to get over the Commander's decision, if only because the woman would not leave until he either broke into a fight with her or forgave her.

So there had been a sparring session. It was the kind of fight that was a thinly disguised battle for dominance, though officially Zaeed had been 'referee' it was probably a safer assumption that he was a bet broker for the crew. The battle had only ended when Shepard had caught a fierce kick from the turian and forced his leg higher into the air, unbalancing him, and then pinned him to the mat by his cowl. At that, Garrus finally yielded, looking exhausted and his anger burned away with the battle.

Then there had been apologies all around. Sorry for lashing out. Sorry for not trusting the other's judgment. Sorry for that rather spectacular bruise across your midsection... With that done, it seemed that everything had returned to normal (or as 'normal' as it ever got on board the Normandy).

Now the aura of anger was back and emanating from the turian in a rather menacing cloud. Whatever had gotten him upset, it seemed to be stressed based and there were several shallow scratches on the mess table in front of him.

"Garrus... put down the fork." Shepard tried diplomacy to disarm the sniper before he decided it was an exceptional weapon.

Diplomacy got her a rude turian gesture.

"Garrus. FORK. Otherwise it will end up somewhere... uncomfortable." Shepard tried intimidation.

Intimidation got her a growl and a glare.

"Officer Vakarian. Either you put that fork down or I slap your spiny ass with insubordination!" Shepard tried pulling rank on him.

This sort of worked. The turian lowered the fork back to the table, moving his glare away from his ire on the datapad to Shepard. "You could just let me stab him once with it. It's only a fork. It's not like it will do much damage." Garrus rumbled, trying his own brand of diplomacy on Shepard. It didn't matter who 'he' was that Garrus wanted to stab, the fact was he was venting on anyone he could, and Shepard wasn't going to allow that.

"The hell it won't. Remember that sparring match last week, where I won and then limped for the whole next day? Do you have any idea how long it took the welts to go away?" Shepard reached forward, knocking the fork away from him. "I still have the bruises, faster healing be damned! Even Wrex wasn't that rough back on the old Normandy! If you need to spar to get all this __pissy __out of your system, get your mitts off the cutlery and head down to the hanger bay." Shepard had pinned his hand to the mess table, stopping him from reaching for the fork or the data plate again.

"Wrex was quite obviously flirting with you when you two sparred." Garrus countered, sounding bitter.

On the other side of the mess table, Kasumi froze. Oh, the conversation had gotten interesting. The thief hunkered down at the table, as if to make herself more inconspicuous.

"Ended poorly for him then, didn't it?" Shepard gathered up the fork Garrus had been murderously wielding seconds before, poking at her MRI rations. "Knocked him clean on his ass. And what do you mean 'flirting'? Half the time he did his crazy krogan warcry and then tried to bull rush me into the bulkhead."

The turian was watching her now, unsure of something. "You didn't notice? I mean... you rarely miss anything, but you didn't notice Wrex was flirting with you?"

"Krogan women may like men with scars, but krogan men? I have no clue – and frankly I'd rather not know either, so please don't tell me." Shepard added quickly. "But how could __you __tell that Wrex was 'flirting'." Lifting one hand, she made air quotes around the word.

"There is a tell to flirting while sparring. You always give your opponent an advantage in the beginning, and then snatch it away in the end to win." Garrus explained.

"Like I said, ended poorly since I usually won." Shepard speared what might have been ham, or might have been pink cardboard on the fork. There was always a gamble on what was going to be more edible, Gardener's meals or pre-packaged MRI boxes – today it was a toss up.

Still watching her, almost cautious, Garrus continued. "There is also the counter-tell. It's when you drag out the fight as long as possible. Anything to keep the fight stretching on. Any mark you put on your partner is meant to act as a reminder to them until it heals." His anger was dissolving into a focused curiosity. Not once did he pull his eyes from Shepard, the same gaze he reserved for breaking down lies from a criminal or probing a target for a weak point.

"'Counter-tell'... Is this some kind of odd turian-thing?" Shepard lowered the fork back to the table. This was too interesting a conversation for food.

"And a reverse-tell... where you let them win that fight so they lower their guard for the next time." The turian looked away, staring instead into the medbay now that Shepard had made eye contact with him.

"Ok, now I know you are bullshitting me." Shepard opened her mouth to object but suddenly went rigid. Then she turned slowly to look over at the scarred visage of the Normandy's sniper. Her hand drifted to her shoulder where there had been an nearly perfect turian handprint bruised into her soft skin for the past week. "Garrus... did you throw our last sparring match?"

"I did no such thing, Commander." Garrus denied, the left mandible twitching inwards. "Though it was amusing watching your little victory dance."

"Victory DODGE... I don't dance." Shepard insisted. Pausing, she considered something. "Rematch. I suspect something is amiss. And if you don't win, it will only prove my point. I realized I haven't seen you do a victory dodge after winning before."

"Of course not, Commander." Garrus said calmly. "Everyone knows I can't dodge. I have a victory __dance.__Only those that are soundly vanquished ever see it."

"Don't worry, someday you are bound to beat someone and get to use it then. I might even be there to watch this __fabled turian victory dance__. Unfortunately, all you'll be seeing is a close up of the mat once again." Shepard grinned widely, taunting the sniper as she kicked out from her seat and slid her tray down to the end of the table towards Gardener.

"Oh you did not just go there." Following her lead, Garrus pushed himself away from the table and stalked after the Commander as she headed for the elevator.

Kasumi remained at the mess table silently, watching as the Commander left with her officer at her heels. If that wasn't flirting, it was some sort of bizarre Shepard-ritual that lead to team-building skills. The thief had no intention of following to see if it was flirting that would build team-skills in the process.

* * *

><p>Shepard tore herself out of her memories, violently. She had not meant to show the last one. It had been at that weird crossroad transitioning from friendship to courtship. In fact, looking back, Garrus had been making that transition for quite a while. Rifling through her memories like someone flipping through the pages of a book, she was a little mollified to realized it had started back even on the first Normandy, before Ilos.<p>

"Lesson complete. What have you all learned today?" Shepard was half distracted by this fact as she asked the Reapers.

The lesson was apparently 'How not to crash while under the influence of emotions,' and it appeared that every Reaper had failed. The Reaper fleet was in chaos. More than 3/4ths of the fleet scattered out of formation throughout the entire galaxy and had bounced off the hulls of larger ships. Then they had gone offline during some point of the 'lesson'. Only the largest dreadnoughts were still online, and they were now dented with the impacts of the smaller class Reapers. However there was only silence from the active Reapers. All of them were focused on her and the oppressive pressure of thousands of Reaper senses focused on her was smothering.

"Friendship lead directly to pain in the case of the quarian, even while still actively harvesting the benefits of the chemical induced euphoria of companionship." One Reaper replied, voice harsh and electronic.

Frustration welled in Shepard. "That... no, that wasn't the point. The point is organics band together, and even the geth do too, because it is comforting. We naturally seek out comfort." She tried to explain. "We don't like seeing others in pain, because it reminds us of pain we might have suffered in the past. No one wants to see their friends miserable." Regret jarred through the Reaper's systems as Shepard wished she could have done anything to prevent Tali from feeling that terrible pain. For every quarian who had died with the brief war with the geth, Shepard knew that Tali would mourn them all as her own person failure. And Shepard would not be there to help her with that.

__**Distress.**__Reapers were skating around in uncontrolled bumps and lurches. "Shepard." Harbinger's voice carried a tone that wasn't quite a warning, nor a request. "Desist this onslaught. Reaper forces have not yet purged the data from your directories."

"Oh no you don't! There will be NO purging of any data! That is a strict order!" Shepard barked. "Think of this as indoctrination in reverse, you bastards. I'm about to indoctrinate the shit out of you. You __will__learn about friendship (for starters), it is... how did you put it, Harbinger... 'I am the vanguard of your destruction'? Well, I'm a vanguard... was... was a vanguard, and I'm about to bring about an apocalyptic amount of remorse from you squids."

There was almost an __**offended**__air about the Reapers now. The most powerful sensation came from Harbinger.

"I suppose I'll accept 'offense' for starters. Good job, squids." Shepard nodded at the 'emotional' outburst from the fleet. "But the lesson was on friendship, not being pretentious bastards. What did you learn?"

In the middle of the Reaper Convergence, a smaller cruiser vessel spoke up, "Friendship acted as a blind with the turian, covering the desire for –," the Reaper paused, "- Desire unspecified. Turian interaction with Shepard-Program was desired, but no beneficial outcome can be detected. Organic life searches for a means to continue – no life would result in the union between human and turian species."

"THAT is not what is up for debate right now. Just fucking friendship. Leave the rest out and focus on just one thing at a time." Shepard became instantly defensive, and her anger shivered through the entire fleet of Reapers, silencing them.

"Disconnected." One Reaper murmured, it's voice almost lost in the chorus of others.

Shepard focused on that one voice. "What was that?" She dragged herself towards that Reaper, trying to instruct it to speak again.

"You are … disconnected." The Reaper spoke slowly, ponderously. "What you have shown, your actions, do not match your actions now."

The woman was silent. That was the drell's term for body and soul not united. Well... she was DEAD, it really didn't get anymore disconnected than this. Was this Reaper complaining she was too hard on them, didn't show them mercy when she had given everything to save her crew?

"Semper fidelis." Harbinger found the words from Shepard's own memories, from her days when she was only starting her N1 training. __'Always faithful.'__

The words caused a flame of fury to burn, and the ever-present pressure of the Reapers recoiled a short distance from her program. "Eye for an eye. I protect those I care about. You haven't given me any reason to care about any of you." Shepard snarled coldly.

The Reapers did not respond.


	5. Burn No Bridges

__Kit will now state the obvious. Tali is the best character ever. Tali obviously needs hugs too. I spent too long playing ME3 multi mode and not enough writing. Thank you for the comments, they are like lighter fluid sprayed onto the pyre that is my laziness, and then the whole thing goes up in a blaze of glory... and the fact I'm making pyromaniac metaphors worries me quite a bit.__

__This has been Stating the Obvious, with Kit. And now back to the story.__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Limbo<strong>_

_**Chapter 5 – Burn no bridges**_

_**4/13/12**_

* * *

><p>Finding and putting on his hardsuit just to enter a crashed ship on a breathable planet seemed a little extreme to Garrus. It had only been the engineering deck that was venting pressurized superheated gas onto that level. However Alenko was adamant and refused to let the turian on board if he didn't put the full hardsuit on despite how badly they needed his help. Garrus had resisted because if he didn't find at least some semblance of anger again, he was afraid his hands would tremble in fatigue as he fought with the latches on his hardsuit.<p>

He never managed to work that anger into a froth or fumble with the cursed suit latches however. Liara had caught him completely off guard as she pinned him to the side of the Normandy with a whirl of blue biotics and wrestled his helmet onto the suit. Any argument that Garrus had been having with Kaidan was officially 'over' when biotics were brought in. The Alliance officer might have been chuckling in amusement smothered by his helmet as he vanished inside the ship, leaving Garrus to have the final pressure seal clicked on for his suit by a diligent asari.

Liara glanced up at the mirrored visor of the helmet, somehow making eye contact through the opaque shielding. "When you are done calibrating, bickering with superior officers, or taking your frustration out on the ship...go get some sleep. Or I'll be forced to report to Dr Chakwas on your status."

Garrus blinked, the petite asari now keeping him shoved up against the side of the ship with her small hands and a glare. "I think I liked you better when you were threatening to flay people with your mind. Can't I have that option rather than blackmail?"

"Garrus." Liara glared warning tone in her voice. "Do you know why I'm still friends with a stubborn turian like yourself?"

"Couldn't be my good looks anymore." Raising his gloved hand to the side of his helm, Garrus rubbed at the scarred side of his face. "I'll venture a guess. My savage wit?"

Liara stepped back, giving him space and a stubbornly amused expression. "It would be your wonderful sense of optimism."

Shaking his head, Garrus pat Liara on the shoulder as he headed for the ship. "Sounds better than saying you'll have to stay my friend forever because you already know all my sordid little secrets." Even at his most furious, Liara was immune to his anger. She simply seemed to dodge the aura of fury like it was a slow moving target and suddenly Garrus found he couldn't muster any frustration for the asari. His insistence on being angry was dissolving like smoke. Now all that kept him going was a dazed routine to go and calibrate the shit out of the main battery.

Upon entering the Normandy, Garrus suddenly understood Kaidan's insistence he put on his hardsuit. The heat from the engineering level was traveling up through all the other floors, turning the top most level into a baking sauna. In an attempt to keep moisture from condensing on the electronics and frying the entire system, EDI had increased the ship's temperatures to match the engineering level's scorching heat and evaporating any moisture that dared to enter the ship through it's many breaches. Tali was afraid cutting power to the Tantalus core would prove too difficult to get back online, so the ship's systems were still running, and venting heat non-stop.

"Fish." Garrus suddenly murmured.

"What?" Kaidan had been wrestling with two heavy plastic tubes, trying to get a makeshift venting system to suck the hot air out. Garrus hadn't realized his comm system was on, and Kaidan lifted his head to peer at the turian in curiosity.

"Shepard's fish. I need to go check on – I mean, no one has fed them in four days, and the last time they went that long with no food..." Garrus was rambling. Never mind the fact it had to be at least 120 degrees inside the ship and the fish probably got boiled, Garrus hadn't yet been to Shepard's quarters since the Normandy retreated from the battle field.

Kaidan gave the typical Alliance gesture for __'go on ahead, I'll hold ground'__, which was rather endearing considering they both had linked comm systems and could hear each other just fine. It gave Garrus the opportunity to stop rambling before he put his toes into his mouth – or however that human idiom when. The elevator was no longer working properly and the doors had been pried open so crew could climb the emergency ladder inside the shaft.

It was like the escape from the Collector's base all over again. The Normandy was missing panels, long gouges tearing durasteel strips away from its sides. Shepard's loft – once again – was a ruined mess of twisted pipes and fallen plates. The door refused to be bypassed by any means of hacking and Garrus resorted to working his uninjured hand into the seam of the door and forcing it open. Sparks cascaded down the arm of his hardsuit from the doors mechanicals and there was a sound of groaning metal as it was shoved back into the frame.

If Shepard's quarters could be considered a mess from the hallway to her room, the inside was a ruined wasteland. The window above Shepard's bed hadn't shuttered in time before shards of glass had imploded into the room, embedding fragments into the bed and floors. The glass cabinets that contained each of the carefully crafted model ships had shattered, and there were pieces of each ship strewn about, as if the whole mess were a puzzle meant to form one giant ship and not a dozen smaller ones. One of the two wall mounted fishtanks had developed a crack along the upper half and water had drained down to the level of the crack, now making the tank half empty. Water hadn't even had a chance to cause stains on the floor before it had been boiled away into vapor. However, there were still fish, swimming around quiet happily in the super heated room.

There were just a lot __fewer __fish. Most of the fish were mysteriously missing at least one of their numbers, except for the long spotted eels who seemed remarkably well fed. The tank VI had done it's job as best as it could, finding a way to keep the water cooled in the boiling room and feeding all the fish. Garrus had forgotten that Shepard had bought the VI in an attempt to use her time she spent 'calibrating' the fish tank for something better. Like tormenting hard-working, battery-dwelling turians.

Reaching into the magnetic tool kit stuck to the back of his hardsuit, Garrus withdrew a roll of clear moldable epoxy tape. Lining up the strip, he carefully sealed the crack the tank. Then he began to gather up the artifacts that had fallen from their places and began to set them in their rightful places in a dazed fashion. Shepard's N7 helmet – the one she had __died __in – had rolled under the bed. There was a mess of shattered glass from the delicate wine flutes to the empty bottle of wine that had never been gathered up after Sanctuary. The space hamster had, once again, escaped it's cage and was missing. Garrus hoped if there was any sort of karma aura left by Shepard, the little rodent would have made it out of the ship and onto the planet before this place became an oven.

Finding the miniaturized prothean 'mysterious artifact' in the shower, Garrus paused with the small humming orb in his hand. Shepard had been curious about the sphere and had taken it with while destroying Collectors, but once the Reapers had shown up she had all but forgotten there was an actual prothean in the ship she could have asked about it. Knowing what he did about Javik, Garrus now assumed it was some sort of touch-memory artifact like the small tablet in his quarters was.

Extending his hand to put the sphere back on the table, Garrus paused. Shepard had forgotten about it shortly after absconding with it (rather than handing it to Cerberus), but if there was a chance it could help the crew... Liara and Javik would be bouncing in __glee __if it contained anything interesting (although Javik might not be prone to _bouncing_, he had definitely absorbed a good deal of Liara's personality at times.) Instead, Garrus tucked the sphere in the hardsuit's only pocket and made a passing reminder on his omni-tool to give it to the prothean when theirs paths crossed. Javik tended to take his sleep cycle at the opposite time as James, leaving at least one of them awake at all times. Interrupting the prothean in the middle of a sleep cycle was a quick way to get a black eye.

Even after the brief cleaning the room was still a disaster zone with glass shards, metal plates, and sparking wires everywhere. It was going to take several shifts of working just to get this part of the ship in livable condition, and that was only if the Tantalus core was repaired. There was no point in straightening anything else in the loft, but Garrus remained just a bit longer anyway, one hand touching the fish tank tentatively. He could almost hear Shepard behind him, sorting through dataplates as she always did...

* * *

><p>"What is on those plates that is so interesting?" Garrus was sprawled on half of the sectional sofa, one leg extended over the coffee table and the other stretching down the length of the furniture. Shepard was sitting on the small available section of couch not taken – which was the bit between his sprawled legs.<p>

"Hmm." Was the Commander's only response, and she lifted another plate from the table to pass it to him. The information was all a breakdown of the Crucible, progress reports, localized test results, and a list of supplies yet to be requisitioned.

Shaking his head, Garrus put the data plate back on the table, leaning over Shepard to manage it. "And I thought asari Matriarch writing was dry enough to lull anyone to sleep. The Alliance should market this as a sleeping-aid."

Shepard again didn't respond with anything more than a hum, but she leaned back against her 'chair' and fished blindly for her mug of java on the table. Garrus had seen her go through no fewer than three cups of the blackened tar the Alliance called 'coffee' in the time since she'd entered her room.

Intercepting the mug, Garrus got one large palm over the top of the cup before it reached Shepard's mouth. "I think I'm going to be cutting you off. You have had enough, Jane."

At the use of her name, Shepard seemed to actually start paying attention and lifted her head from the reports. "What?" she asked indignantly, if not a bit bleary as well. Twisting around to face Garrus, he was struck by just how tired she looked at that moment. Her freckles seemed to stand out even more on her pale skin, the dark smudges under her eyes only emphasizing this. Only the sharp verdant green of her eyes still looked the same after hours of exhaustion – unyielding and determined.

"Jane, this is the first time in three days you've scheduled eight continuous hours of 'sleep time' in your roster, and you haven't actually done __any __sleeping yet." With a firm pressure, Garrus got her hand holding the mug to lower it back to the table, and then intertwined his fingers with hers so she released the little ceramic handle. "If you stop drinking stims long enough, I'm sure you'll fall right asleep. Why are you fighting it?"

Denied her coffee, Shepard's fingers lost their grip on the dataplate and it fell to her lap. The woman didn't even seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed at the small strip of fabric where his under-armor weave protruded from his hardsuit. "They're asking me to review the progress on the Crucible, as if I have a degree in theoretical prothean thing-a-majigs." Sighing, Shepard slumped forward into that spot on Garrus' neck, his hands coming up to her shoulders.

"_Why? _Not to be insubordinate... but you could barely operate the mass effect fields on the Mako... why are they asking you about quantum theoretical postulations?_" _Garrus lifted the curtain of red hair that spilled down Shepard's neck, tucking it over her shoulder so he could reach the bare skin there. Jane's neck arched gracefully as she rolled her head to the side to give him room to touch. The muscles in her neck were stiff and she almost slumped in relief as he tried to rub sensation into store muscles.

"Because I am Commander Shepard and I can master rocket science in my off-time!" The woman insisted weakly and with a good deal of irony.

"What off-time?" Garrus touched the back of his claws to the thin skin over her spine, stroking downwards into the collar of her shirt.

Shepard suddenly squirmed in his lap. "In the time off I have scheduled right n-," the fingers pressed slightly, finding a knot of stress in her back and a groan escaped her lips, "_-you are fucking ___cheatin___g,_" she breathed in a single hiss.

Leaning forward so his mandible pressed into her neck, Garrus huffed a breath of laughter. "And I fully expect you to cheat back." Using only gentle pressure, Garrus found the knot of muscles in Jane's lower neck that had been so tense. The ball of his thumb carefully worked at her neck on one side, leaving him to scrape his cheek against the expanse of bare flesh on the other side of her neck. Human skin was soft, almost downy in places with fine hair and so strange. Despite it's alien nature to Garrus, he couldn't take his hands from her and reveled as her soft body shivered and molded against his.

"Garrus." There was a slight tremor to her voice, the mask of the Commander falling to pieces at his touch.

"If you aren't going to sleep... maybe we can do something more constructive than theoretical postulations." At his voice, Shepard shivered again, her flesh prickled with goosebumps as she leaned into his touch.

One hand slid up Jane's taut stomach, her muscles twitching as he ghosted over zones that were ticklish and others that were just sensitive. The questing fingers found the swell of the underside of one breast. His thumb pressed into her ribs so his palm could cup her and long fingers began to tease. The taut nipple stood at attention immediately, and the woman gave a fractured gasp as he set his fingers to work on tormenting her.

If Garrus' targeting visor hadn't informed him that __'nope, gravity still exists, boss'___, _he would have sworn the Normandy had turned off its mass effect fields for the span of a single second because the next thing he knew he was dizzy as all hell, face down on the sofa, and Shepard was sitting on his back like he was some kind of Earth pony.

"How did you-," Garrus managed to get out. And that was all he got to say before clever little fingers scraped up the back of his skull, her nails catching on each plate with a delicious pause. She was avoiding the sensitive underside of his fringe, teasing the thick skin beneath it or ghosting a feathery touch over it. Her other hand could have been everywhere at once, the cooler flesh pressed only teasingly against him before it would vanish. All he managed to get out after that was a rather strangled groan.

"Eye for an eye, __turian__." Shepard hissed, her lips grazing over his neck as she spoke while delicate fingers traced down his neck to where his hardsuit transformed 'protection' into 'fucking irritating'.

Withholding a whimper, Garrus made a plea that might have been, 'yes, ma'm!' There was the teasing click of latches and his cowl armor suddenly fell loose. Intending to roll them both again, Garrus had not expected a preemptive strike by Jane and gasped when blunt teeth found the edge of his mandible and nipped carefully to his neck. Soft human lips pressed into the sensitive scar tissue alone his neck. A hot swipe from her tongue soothed over his pulse point, not at all helping his current case. Blunt rounded nails slipped between the seam of his carapace and followed the junction of the plates down to his waist.

Garrus would have melted into a puddle if he wasn't held together in a turian shape. The metallic-like carapace of a turian was not soft or malleable like human skin. However, in the small gaps between the plates, the skin was tough but sensitive. Turian claws were too large to fit into the narrow seams but tiny human nails fit between the plates perfectly, and the sensation was like being consumed by fire from within and an ever-present itch being scratched at the same time. Garrus was not sure if he wanted to lunge and ravage the incorrigible tease or surrender to the sweet torture.

The result was a turian reduced to the a boneless purring mass on the couch. "Hnn, the vids didn't mention this." Garrus didn't have to look at Shepard to know she was smiling as she whispered against his neck. There was a warm buzzing sensation in the air, and as Jane slid her hand from his waist back to his shoulder to repeat the gesture, Garrus caught a glimmer of biotics cascade down his carapace. Blunt fingernails slid into the gap of the plates again, but this time the was a warm wash of biotics pulsed just under his skin. Following a ridgeline from Garrus' shoulders down to the place where the plate on his back fused together, the hum and warble of biotics vibrating under the heavy plates.

"I surrender." Garrus gasped out, his fingers twitching, wishing he could grab onto some part of Jane.

The woman laughed, bright and clear, "You surrender? To what?"

"To the colony of Shepard. Oh sssspirits." Hissing, Garrus tried to arch his back as she moved her hands to a tense area just under his right shoulder blade. Jane worked at his back for a moment, trying to tease out the tension he carried there from shouldering the heavy Mantis rifle.

"So you want me to stop?" Her hands did just that, the pressure vanishing. The rumble of biotics was gone.

That would have been Shepard's one mistake. In that instant, Garrus flipped himself over on the sofa, pinning Shepard to the couch with his back and then tumbling them both to the ground, wedged between the furniture and the coffee table. Brilliant blue eyes locked with surprised green eyes, and Shepard shivered under him.

"No. I expect you to be able to take as good as you can give." Garrus rumbled, his hand pressed firmly against her stomach and slipped under the hem of her shirt to drag upwards-

* * *

><p>– The omni-tool beeping tore Garrus out of a dazed state that might have been him asleep on his feet. Spirits, he hadn't fallen asleep on his feet since Omega, and before that not since his basic training program. It had been a neat trick at the time, but stopping where you stood and just blacking out for a few minutes of sleep did not bode well for his mind. Addled from the nap, his body aching with the lingering effects of the vivid memory, Garrus slapped his injured hand on his omni-tool to stop the beeping and nearly hissed as pain ratcheted up his arm.<p>

A message came through the small device on his wrist. "Kaidan said you were up in the loft." It was Tali, and she sounded just as exhausted as he felt. "Did Shepard's fish make it?"

Casting an eye on the tank as if he honestly couldn't remember, the cool blue water seemed exactly the same as it had been a year ago during the Cerberus mission. "What fish haven't eaten each other yet, yeah."

Tali clicked her tongue, and was probably shaking her head, "Don't tell James. He was saying something about a 'fish stick'... but fish aren't stick shaped... how would that work?"

History lessons on the original Normandy flickered through Garrus's mind, of him asking what exactly went into an MRI. "That's the question you are never supposed to ask if you want to keep eating processed food without being ill. Sorry, Tali, I got a bit – a bit lost up here. I'm headed down to the battery now."

There was a rasping sound from the omni-tool and it cut abruptly off. Garrus froze. "Tali?" He asked, unsure what the noise had been, but it had sounded violent.

"I'm ok." Her voice responded almost immediately. "Just … just fine." Even with a helmet on her head, he could picture her shoulders slumped. Tali might have thought she was the queen of the poker face, but she had a hundred other tells that gave her away.

This time there was another sound and Tali hadn't cut the omni-tool's sound fast enough. It was a sneeze.

"Tali... did your suit get punctured when we landed?" Garrus hopped over the edge of the elevator shaft, climbing down the ladder gingerly with his injured hand barely able to hold on at all.

The omni-tool was silent for a bit. Suspiciously long. Then, "Yes, but it was just a small one. And it's not bad, just a small reaction. Not even running a fever!" The quarian had her __'I'm fine in the face of death'__tone of voice on, the one she had mastered back as just a kid trying to save the galaxy from Saren.

It didn't fool Garrus.

Garrus passed the crew level and kept climbing down, headed now for the boiling engineering room. The door had been propped open with several pieces of rebar and the heavy plastic pipes Kaidan was trying to run through the ship threaded out from this level. A mist of superheated gas cast the entire floor in a shroud of haze. Tali's little combat drone, Chiktikka vas Paus the third (the first two... don't even ask what happened to them), was buzzing about the room monitoring and adjusting the venting system Kaidan was trying to jerry-rig. Garrus waved his hand at the drone to shoo it from his path. Chiktikka just sort of hovered there... clicking. Annoyingly. More annoyingly than normal.

"You are doing that deliberately, aren't you?" Garrus frowned at the little combat drone. It gave a toneless beep and navigated around the turian, returning to it's task.

Through the mist of the engineering floor, Garrus found himself uncomfortably hot, even in his hardsuit. Turning immediately into the engine room from the junction hall, Garrus found Tali leaning against a console a little too heavily to be 'fine'. What was more, EDI was beside the quarian, a look of distress on her synthetic face.

There was instant silence upon entering the room. EDI stiffened slightly, pulling away from Tali to give Garrus her full attention. The last time he had bumped into her, things had... gotten uncomfortably __loud___._ Yelling seemed to be a side effect after every time they crossed paths after EDI had hijacked the Normandy to retreat. Anger that had been boiling at a low simmer at all times roiled to life in a fury upon spotting EDI.

Tali broke into a set of three sneezes, both hands raised in front of her helmet as if she were going to cover her mouth. EDI's stare pulled from Garrus to evaluate the engineer, and then with a solemn gaze the AI turned back to him.

"Tali'Zorah was not being entirely truthful. There is no suit rupture," EDI said. She made no attempts at a greeting, or at defending her actions back at the Citadel's retreat. They both knew that trying to explain yet again why she had removed the Normandy from Earth's space would only cause another argument.

"EDI, don't." Tali sniffled, her throat hoarse as she scolded the AI.

Taking a breath to calm the burning fury he felt for the AI at this moment, Garrus approached Tali and was pleased to see EDI take several steps away to give them space. "Alright, so there was no rupture. But why wouldn't you tell someone if you are sick... why pretend you have a ruptured seal? Tali, what's going on?" He had meant to sound authoritative, like Kaidan had been attempting to do. However his stern attempt immediately collapsed and he ended his sentence on a plea.

Tali immediately crumbled, she couldn't keep a secret even on her best day and especially not from a friend. "There's... a geth in my suit." She said in a hush.

Blinking in shock, Garrus pulled back a bit, his helmet cocking to the side as he observed her.

"Not actually IN my suit, bosh'tet! Does there look like there is room for a geth in my suit?" Tali gawked at him.

Garrus reached forward to pat her on the helmet. "I wasn't going to say anything, … but here I thought you were just happy to see me instead of having a geth in your pocket."

Tali gave a feeble wail of protest at his jibe and tried to fend him off. Quarian verses turian was never in the engineer's favor and Garrus simply stood there like a living piece of metal and let her bump her fists into him in mock-rage as she broken into native swearing.

"Such a mouth." Garrus admonished, amused. "But there is a __geth __in your suit... since when?"

Done with her mock-rage, Tali gave a weak cough to clear her throat. "Since before Sanctuary. One of the geth asked if I wanted to – well, they can jump-start our immune system. And I knew, there was _no way_ I wasn't going to end up with a suit puncture on Earth... so I said yes."

EDI was nodding and Garrus turned to her, a glare on his face the AI couldn't see through his helmet, "You knew this?"

"Shepard knew this as well. There were not enough mobile platforms for all the geth to help, so many uploaded themselves into the quarian fleets attack forces as well as their civilians back on Rannoch." EDI raised both her hands as if to shrug, but instead started an elaborate gesture – one that was similar to the gestures Legion would do. "I asked the unit not to begin the immuno-boosting treatment until later... but they would not wait."

Coughing to clear her throat, Tali's voice rasped the first few words. "Harmony had a good point. I have a high chance of getting a suit rupture when doing heavy repairs like this. And if I have a bad reaction... there is no longer a fully functioning medbay. So we started the program immediately after crashing. Any reaction I have will be mild compared to an actual suit rupture." Tali bowed her head, looking down at her feet awkwardly.

Garrus looked first from Tali, then EDI, and then back to Tali. "Harmony?"

"The geth's name." Tali now rolled her head slightly to the left – radiating _embarrassment _– and shuffled her feet with a sniffle.

"Geth have names now... I mean besides Legion?" Garrus amended. Then he looked towards EDI. If anyone knew geth protocol better than Shepard, it had to be the ship's own AI.

Garrus knew the few mobile geth prime units that had joined the battle had been given names by the other troopers on the field with them, such as "Optimus" or "Steak" or other strange yet fitting nicknames that come from a battlefield truce. These prime units had accepted the unique names given to them, and seemed to be comfortable referring to themselves by whatever had been given.

"Tali named it," EDI reported.

"Her." Tali corrected. "Not it. __Her.__"

Now THAT threw Garrus for a loop. "There are __female __geth?"

Tali was blushing, he could tell even if he couldn't see her face. "Well... no, not really. Not in the same way organics are female... but it's like... if EDI is a woman, why can't the geth be? Besides, Harmony is in my suit, and it would be a bit... improper if she was a male." The quarian had developed a slight stress cough in addition to blushing, and it seemed like her mask was fogging up.

EDI nodded. "Human's prefer to see doctor's of their own gender for basic physical check-ups, Jeff once told me he was slightly uncomfortable around Dr. Chakwas in the beginning because he was not assigned a male doctor. Since geth have no identifiable genders, this one has accepted the designation 'female' and is now imprinting on Tali's 'female' model."

Garrus felt absolutely no anger at all at this moment. His anger had transformed into shock, and was now making his head spin. His mandibles were hanging slack inside his helmet, unseen by the others but he was sure Tali was picking up on his dumbfounded state.

"Can this... can Harmony talk through your suit's systems?" Garrus asked.

"Yes." The reply wasn't from Tali, but from a new voice almost identical to Legion's laconic method of speaking, only slightly higher pitched and a bit more harmonic.

At hearing a voice, someone to argue and speak with, Garrus clenched both hands and winced at the sudden stab of pain that accompanied it. "You." Garrus felt the old well of protective fury building up. "You __better __not be harming Tali in there. Otherwise –," A growl was rumbling at his base-tone harmonics, and he straightened his back to loom over Tali just a little.

The geth interjected quickly, "All geth inherited the geth-model Legion AI coding, as well as legacy code. This legacy code contained his objectives and archived consensus records. According to Legion's specifications, Creator-Tali'Zorah is the quarian he wished to protect the most. Out of the organic species, only Shepard-Commander ranked higher in Legion's database." The sound had come from Tali, but it was as if she were simply a radio for this new voice.

"What does that mean?" Garrus asked warily.

"It means," EDI spoke softly, "That the geth will seek to do anything to protect Tali'Zorah. All geth inherited Legion's desire to understand and be accepted by the quarians, because Tali accepted him first."

Harmony simply said, "Yes."

Tali seemed to be blushing so hotly that her helmet would have been steaming if they were not in a sauna-like engine room. "Legion was my friend, just like everyone else on th-the Normandy." She slipped on her words a bit, a feeble cough working free.

Garrus felt a weak smile lift his mandibles. Despite Tali's original complaints about Legion, the end of the Collector mission had seen her truly unhappy to watch the geth leave as they all went on their ways. While most of the crew had been together almost half a year, Legion had shown up near the last month. Even with only a month of time spent battling, preparing, and on rare occasion chatting with him, Tali had found that as an individual she really didn't mind geth at all.

Now it seemed she had developed the same relationship with this suit-geth.

"Still... geth in your suit? Would you like to go raise a Thresher Maw from a spore too?" The shock had burned away, leaving one again the stubborn fury that wanted to start arguments and fights.

"Really, Garrus. Harmony has done nothing that I didn't request. And she's polite. EDI can vouch for her." Tali put a hand on Garru's shoulder, patting him back.

EDI nodded, arms crossed. "This geth is very much like Legion during his last evolution period, fully self-aware and able to comprehend altruistic actions. Harmony has been acting as another engineer to double check all repairs on board, now that Tali is losing concentration to her artificially cau-,"

"EDI!" Tali gasped. "Blabbermouth!"

"Oops." EDI didn't seem the least bit 'surprised' she had let that slip out. Garrus had credits to bet that it was intentional.

Intentional or not, EDI had alerted Garrus to another issue. He focused his helmet stare on Tali's own helm, neither of them able to see the others face but surely having a stare down. "Tali... if you aren't working at top condition and make a mistake then-,"

"Oh, that's something coming from the Gunnery Officer who can barely walk straight. Garrus, you are so exhausted you are going to start sleep-calibrating things." Tali argued.

"I would have been helping sooner I had been __allowed__in the Normandy." Garrus was rumbling in a tone that was bordering on a growl.

Silence. There was only the high pressure hiss from the escaping heated gas of the engine room. EDI shifted uncomfortably.

Someone had to play peacekeeper, and soon. Garrus felt ready to snap, even at someone like Tali at this point. EDI's presence was still causing anger to continuously bubble up and unless he removed himself from engineering or someone stepped in, there was going to be a chain reaction of bickering and fighting.

"Compromise." Harmony's voice spoke suddenly, still an auto-tuned staccato. "Vakarian-officer will put in a half shift of duty, and Creator-Zorah will finish her duty now. Both will retire to the bunks for a full rest cycle, and then return on their next roster." The geth's suggestion seemed both fair and compassionate to both party. How odd... a geth worried about not only their physical health, but their relationships with others.

Tali was probably about to protest, but instead suffered a series of five sneezes in a row that left her sniffling. "Guh, I... alright. I won't be this bad tomorrow, will I?"

"No," Harmony replied. "Inoculation process is almost complete."

Garrus watched as Tali removed her toolkit from her hip and put it down on the floor, intending to leave. But the little quarian looked up at him, expecting a reaction. Her arms crossed and she made it perfectly clear without saying a single word that she wasn't leaving until Garrus gave her a promise as well. The suit-geth had a point, if he kept falling asleep on his feet it was only a matter of time before a critical error slipped by him too.

"Alright. Half shift. Then I will go bunk somewhere too," he conceded with a nod.

"And not in a tree. That can't be comfortable," Tali added.

"Not in a tree." Nodding, Garrus lifted his hand to pat Tali on the helm as he accompanied her to the exit. The little quarian leaned against his arm as they left the engineering level, Garrus headed for the crew deck and Tali for the exit. Personal space didn't hold a whole lot of meaning for someone who has dragged you out of a firefight by the scruff of your neck and been scrambled through the Mako-blender with you, and Garrus found the physical contact comforting.

Tali waved goodbye to EDI, turned to Chiktikka and gave orders to continue to vent out the steam however possible, and then whirled dizzily and stumbled sideways into Garrus on her attempt to climb the ladder out of the engineering level.

Upon reaching the crew level, Garrus paused. "Harmony. Thanks for peace-brokering."

The suit-geth spoke in jarring tones, not quite used to communicating with organics yet. "It was not my plan. The instruction to broker-peace came from EDI-Normandy over the tightband broadcast. She wished to cause a compromise for the health of the organics."

Garrus winced a little. If EDI were inclined to be spiteful, the AI had just missed a chance to watch the turian run ragged.

"I know you want to be angry Garrus, but EDI is just like the geth. She is synthetic... her reaction made sense to her at the time, even if it didn't to us." Tali said softly, grasping the ladder runs to continue climbing. "Making her explain her reasoning is like second guessing your own shots."

"When did you become so wise?" Garrus called up to her as she climbed.

"I've always been this smart." Tali's response came through the intercom even as her feet vanished from view up the ladder. "You just have your head up your ass sometimes. Maybe now the pole is gone... you can pay attention to everything."

"And when did you become this smartass?" Garrus grunted, shaking his head in amusement.

"Now, that – I learn from the best." The quarian said with pride.


	6. Consensus

__M-Angel 05 – you have discovered my secret plot! … since killing you would be a lot of work, I'll just have to induct you into my secret organization. Congratulations! Your first mission is eating chips and watching TV. Get on that.__

__Sin of the Fallen – You'll make me CHOOSE between Garrus and Joker? What kind of 'fair' is that? I cannot choose, I remain a firm member of the 'Fence Sitter's Anonymous' club. Making decisions is for people who don't procrastinate anyway.__

__Thanks for the encouragement! I'm powered on quarters (or comments), and I managed to grind out this chapter sooner than expected. No random updates next weekend though. I'm going to a gamer's convention, where we play the snot out of board games! Also... there will be baby kittens involved and nerdy friends. I fully expect to laugh myself hoarse. If you guys are ever looking for hilarious board games, try "Last Night on Earth", a zombie based board game where you have zombie and hero players. IT'S AWESOME!... until your brains get eaten.__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Limbo<strong>_

_**Chapter 6 – Consensus**_

_**4/15/12**_

* * *

><p>Reapers didn't sleep. Reapers didn't have hobbies either. Reapers spent most of their time in abject boredom.<p>

"Ok... I think I see why you all live for that point every 50,000 years where you can go tear things up... but that is a REALLY big galactic no-no to kill everyone. I'm going to assign every one of you hobbies if I have to." Shepard was bored. She wasn't directly in control of any one Reaper. It was more like she was still the Commander and they were all her troops... giant murderous squid-troops who were as exciting as watching the elcor version Hamlet.

The last lesson on friendship had been so profoundly alien to the mechanical destroyers that nearly the entire fleet had suffered numerous glitches and overclocked vital systems trying to cope with it. With the grand majority of the Reaper vessels now just floating around, unable to leave the various systems, Shepard was forced to let them all pause to recalibrate.

To speed the process along, Shepard tried 'sharing' something that wasn't fury or an overdose of friendship. She simply channeled calmness, picturing Samara in her lotus pose with the constant biotic glow or a peaceful vista on a colony world. There were remarkably few moment's in Shepard's life that could be considered 'calm'. Her life was eventful – always – but even when she unwound from the stress things tended to be loud and active. She could honestly count on one hand how many times she had just sat quietly, not saying anything, and enjoyed being around others.

Samara had been at the center of almost all those moments while she meditated. Once Jack had even grudgingly joined in – and for half of an hour the three of them had been charged with so much biotic energy that the Normandy's Tantalus core had jumped from it's normal frequency oscillations and joined the biotic artillery squad on theirs. Granted, Tali had stormed into the observatory furious, and the group meditation had ended with a chaotic amount of yelling, amusement and remorse at causing unintended trouble. However, it had been worth it.

"Shepard." Harbinger had been one of the few Reapers not badly effected by the emotional sharing, but there had been collateral damage done by the disabled Reapers impacting into it's shell.

"Yes." Calm and withdrawn, Shepard closed her eyes and let herself see only darkness.

Harbinger was silent for a moment. __**Confusion**___**.**_ The Reaper suspected a trap, a sudden onslaught of powerful emotions to overwhelm their brittle systems. Even with processors thousands of times more powerful than EDI's blue box, the Reapers could predict the actions of organics with only mild accuracy. Organics were just too chaotic to predict. Unless you were a people person – which the Reapers certainly weren't (unless you count being __made __of people-persons... which Shepard really didn't).

"Amplifying this tedious vision of landscapes and asari matriarchs is... calming?" Harbinger had never sounded unsure before, and truthfully he didn't 'sound' unsure now (monotones only have so much give to them), but there was no doubt that the Reaper had no clue what was going on.

Victory! Wait... no, Shepard was trying to teach the tin-cans emotions... not confuse the shit out of them. Still, points for trying.

"That would be a matter of preference. How does that make you feel?" There was a small spark of something remembered in Shepard's skull – the dreaded 'how does that make you feel' statement. Turning your own statements into slight questions to press the patient to say more. Kelly Chambers was a master of it in such a subtle way that you could hold an hour conversation with her and then suddenly realize she was trying to dismantle your psyche. The yeoman could probably give some of the greatest therapists in history a run for their money (and then make them all cry because their momma's didn't love them).

Harbinger was still considering Shepard's question when a large section of the Reaper Convergence came back online. The sensation of __**pressure**____returned to full force as the Commander was now sure she had all 100% of the fleet back online – maybe not fully functional but at least they had recovered from the overwhelming emotional outburst. "Alright you napping squids, I want you smaller Reapers to own up and taken responsibility for the damage you did to the dread-squids. Look at Harbinger... he looks like he got into a fight with a hailstorm. A hailstorm that throws asteroids at you. You see that damage? For shame!"

There was a distinct lack of __**shame **__being shared amongst the Reapers as they observed Harbinger's damage reports that he had suffered from wildly careening vessels. There was, however, a increased amount of poking around Harbinger's files and the larger Reaper twisted his connection away from the others. __**Distrust**___**.**_ Reapers didn't even like each other enough to let another Reaper repair them.

"Ok, if Reapers could hold knives, I'd fully expect you all to go on a backstabbing spree. It would be a giant melee brawl until the last squid with the last knife was declared the winner." Muttering half in disgust, Shepard began to sort through the massive conduit of data coming into the systems to hurry along Reaper calibrations.

__**Curosity**___**.**_ One of the Reapers was trying to open a channel to her, the very bright shine of curiosity only barely showing through the heavy pressure that followed their signals.

"Yes?" Allowing direct access, Shepard found it was a very small Reaper, a simple Oculi.

"Winning. It represents superiority over others." The Reaper announced, though it's tone was more seeking confirmation than a statement.

"Yeah, congratulations, if you stab everyone to death, you win." Heavy on the irony, Shepard rolled her eyes, a gesture lost on the synthetics.

The Oculi latched onto the idea of superiority. Reapers placed themselves at the top off any chain of command, reasoning that if they could destroy countless civilizations then they were the alpha lifeform. Shepard's transition into the Shepard-Code had pretty much shoved them all off their high horse and then she stole the damn thing out from under them. Then her own memories had placed humans on the pedestal of the high-and-mighty they had once occupied. The thought of being superior again, even over other Reapers, was appealing to this unit.

"Ok, there Blinky... no stabbing anyone. Not even ironically." Just in case the Reaper didn't comprehend irony __(Shepard-Code:/directory/memo – irony to be next lesson___)_, Shepard gave the little vessel a direct order.

The order was met with confusion and resistance. Surprising resistance in fact for such a small ship. "What? You've really got a bug in your system to stab someone? We do __not__need the synthetic equivalent of Jack the Ripper/Reaper... NO stabbing."

Again, resistance. Finally, the little Oculi spoke up. "Designation icon is not 'Blinky'."

"Of the for... it's a nickname, or hell I could just actually rename you if you insist. Where's your database?" Half distracted, Shepard began to sort through the data links. Finding the data connected to the linked Reaper, Shepard flicked through the information. It had battle records, kill counts, system status, and creation date _(___look at that... Reapers have birthdays. Shepard-Code:/directory/memo – Enforce mandatory 'fun' on their birthdays___)_ and lodged illogically in the middle of all of it was the unit's 'designation icon'.

"Your name is 'BLYhash4341? That's... that's a terrible name." Wrinkling her noise and scowling, Shepard latched onto the connection more firmly. "Harbinger has a name. And Sovereign too... or I guess his name was … Nazara?"

Dubbed 'BLYhash4341', the Reaper suddenly tried to twist away from Shepard's scrutiny. However lodged in the heart of all shared Reaper connections, the small vessel could not disconnect itself from Shepard's reach. Unsure why the Reaper was kicking up such a fuss, Shepard released the link and allowed it to melt back into anonymity.

Seeking answers now, Shepard turned to Harbinger. The large ship had tried to shut itself off from other Reapers, but could not shut itself off from her. "Hey, Harbinger, I'm poking around in your files." It was for official notification only, as the woman was positive the Reaper could feel her messing around. There was no resistance from the dreadnought, in fact the Reaper seemed to be presenting data to her rather than letting her fumble around in the massive database.

"Here it is! Your designation icon." Shepard found the small clip of data she was searching for, again jammed illogically in a comprehensive power-draw system report. Harbinger's proper designation was 'Kalvera'. The name probably had meaning in a long extinct language, one that had vanished almost 800,000 years ago if the Reaper's creation date could indicate when a race went extinct.

"So when did 'my name is Kalvera' change into 'I am the Harbinger of your destruction' and then shortened to 'I am Harbinger'. Why not just use your names...er... 'designation icons'?" Shepard asked the Reaper, lodged in the darkness of it's mainframe and surrounded by hundreds of thousands of small unique programs that made it up.

Harbinger remained silent for a long moment, still pulling packets of data and presenting them to Shepard. "There is no one to use our proper terms." That was all he said.

"Yeah, killing everyone does kind of ruin the chance for socialization." Snorting, Shepard battled away some data that the Reaper's systems were cycling through. "What do you want to be referred to?"

Another long silence from Harbinger.

"You have a proper name, I could call you by that. Or just keep calling you Harbinger. Or I could fuck with your database and name you Squid-frankenstein." The lack of a response set the Commander on edge and she tried to bait the vessel into rage. Goddamn Reapers... so emotionally boring.

"We have no preference," Harbinger said in it's rumbling monotone.

"... I'll teach you to fear having 'no preference'." Shepard grinned suddenly. "Impromptu lesson, squids! This one can also be filed under 'how taste buds work'."

The rumbling throughout the Reaper fleet raised a few octaves in __**distress**___**.**_ Disregarding their concern, Shepard pushed a memory forward.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Recalling memory 412 file: Normandy SR-2, <strong>_

Gardner wasn't a __bad __cook. Not by normal human means anyway. He was an average cook, and average man, but a hard worker. His supplies were all freeze dried or frozen materials that were meant to last long months without another docking trip, he could hardly be blamed if the meat was a little chewy or dry.

That didn't stop the crew from blaming him, however. Cerberus hired employees were a finicky bunch.

"Here, try this." Gardner held a wide spoonful of some sort of broth to Shepard. The Commander sat at the small kitchen island rather than at the mess table, her back to the main battery. She had honestly come down to the crew deck to have a word with Garrus, but Gardner had sprung on her with gratitude and eagerness. Shepard found that against actual gratitude (not that fake stuff the Council pressed on her) she was completely helpless.

Taking the spoon from him, Shepard sampled the broth. Grimacing, she made a reflexive face at the taste, "It … tastes salty." She confessed, trying to break the news to him easy.

"Bullshit. Too salty?" Gardner asked, looking down at the pot of simmering liquid.

"It's like drinking from the ocean." Reaching for a glass of water, Shepard washed the taste out of her mouth. "What are you trying to cook?"

Gardner tried adding more liquid to the pot. "Some of the crew were __complaining __they didn't have time to eat at the Citadel during our last docking. One of 'em wanted to eat at that... whaddya callit... Ramen joint?" For as rough as the old man was, he did listen to what the crew wanted to eat, and tried to keep a balanced meal. Even for Garrus and Tali, Gardner had actually gone to Mordin to find out what type of food was the healthiest balance for them. It just kind of unfortunately happened the the healthiest food was also the most disgusting...

"Do you even have any noodles, or … whatever else goes into Ramen besides salt?" Shepard took another drink, the taste of salt still thick on her tongue.

Gardner paused, his eyes widening, and then looked towards the cupboards. "There are noodles in Ramen? Like... spaghetti?"

It took only the most powerful 'Commander's face' to keep from laughing at Gardner's surprise. "You've never had ramen before?"

"Colony raised. Never actually been to Earth. I'm use to colony cuisine." Gardner confessed, tipping the pot by the handle to peer in at it. "Think adding something spicy would jazz it up?"

"Gardner... it's essentially salt water right now... ANYTHING would jazz it up." Shepard turned to look at the forward battery, the doors still closed.

"'Anything' huh,... think we got somma that." The chef squinted into the pot again. "Looks like you wanted to go speak to Vakarian? Let him know I got our 'finicky eaters' food rehydrating in the fancy Cerberus doo-dad. It'll be done in ten. I'll finish up this meal in the meanwhile." Gardner fumbled through the fridge, pulling out a cellophane wrapped package. Nodding, Shepard pushed to her feet and escaped the odd smells of the kitchen for the main battery.

Though ten minutes later, Shepard seriously regretting giving Gardner the freedom of picking what 'anything' to put into the ramen. The man had added lime juicy, curry powder, chopped up potatoes, chicken, spaghetti noodles and eggs to the salty soup in what he was calling 'curried ramen'. It was as if the man couldn't decide if he was making egg drop soup, curry, ramen, or just giving up and throwing them all together.

Shepard sat looking at her extra large serving of 'curried ramen' while Garrus chuckled, hovering over her with a rehydrated tube of paste. "I never thought I'd be glad to have the standard turian rations over a chef cook's meals."

"Maybe the Collectors will attack somewhere and I'll be needed up on the deck." Shepard mumbled quietly out of the corner of her mouth and attempted to gather a bite of the food with a spoon. The concoction had gelled together because of the egg and was a swirling mass of orange colored liquid with unappetizing shapes in it.

Collectors failed to come when called and Shepard was left with the entire crew watching with baited breath as she was first to try the meal. With no other choice than faking her own death (or actually dying again and letting Mirada sort out the pieces), Shepard brought the spoon to her mouth and tried it.

"Salty." Was the first thing that came to Shepard's mind as she swallowed. "Gardner... this is the saltiest fucking thing I have ever eaten. Did you put __more __salt in this?"

"No. Same amount. That would be the curry powder you are tasting. Give it a sec, it'll hit." The chef was leaning against the kitchen island, an expecting look on his face.

Swallowing again, Shepard's throat felt dry. "Why does that not inspire me with conf-," Then her eyes widened in alarm. In her haste to put out the fire that was now burning in her throat and sinuses, Shepard sloshed most of her water down the front of her uniform as tears streamed down her face.

"There it is! Curry powder." Gardner announced.

"Oh god, he's weaponized the food!" Donnelly cried, holding Gabby in front of him like a shield.

"What, it can't be that bad, it's got zing is all," Gardner stirred at the stew with a ladle.

Grunt sniffed at the pot, leaning cautiously away from it. "It's that bad." The krogan snorted a few times, trying to clear the smell out of his nose. If Grunt wasn't going to eat it... it was BAD.

Still sputtering and wiping tears from her face, Shepard finally got control of her breathing. Her face was scarlet and sweat had beaded on her skin in the thirty seconds it had taken to recover. "Gardner, did you even taste this?" Shepard croaked.

The chef put a lid over the pot. "Whaddya, crazy? Hell no. … It smelled like crap."

EDI dusted off and reviewed the safety protocol, and determined it was demanded all hazardous materials had to be ejected from the premises as soon as possible. Zaeed took the pot of 'curried ramen' to the airlock and it was flushed into space. Instead, that night everyone ate rehydrated MRE's and had never been happier to do it.

* * *

><p>"And that's why you squids should be grateful you don't have taste-buds!" Shepard finished off the memory, a little surprised to find all the Reapers functional and online.<p>

However there was a general aura of __**repulsion**__at the memory. It hadn't been what Shepard had been trying to teach them, but when each Reaper suddenly experienced a memory-taste of that 'food' Gardner had created,... she supposed it was a fair reaction.

"Wait- that wasn't what I was showing you that memory for. Reaper-formerly-known-as-Harbinger, I showed it to you so you would decide what I should call you – by your actual name, by your 'I'm a douchebag' name', or should I make one up? Because when it comes to preferences, you may not have one, but I do. And there is no promise you'll approve of my choice."

Harbinger was quiet as it considered, the heavy pressure of a Reaper closely running in her 'presence' (what do you call it when you are everywhere in all reapers?) With not a whole lot to do Shepard waited for his reply.

The entire fleet was re-calibrated and ready to move by the time Harbinger gave an answer. "Harbinger is appropriate. The designation icon we were given was selected by the Catalyst."

Every Reaper was now silent.

"Ok, that awkward silence was not caused by me." Focusing on a few of the linked Reapers, Shepard tried a test that would have had Mordin nodding in approval. Leaning forward to brace her (not-quite-existant) hands on her (not-quite-existant) knees, she shouted, "Catalyst."

There was a shiver of disquiet that moved down the Reaper's ranks.

"You are afraid of the Catalyst!" Agog, Shepard turned to find Harbinger's link.

__**Irritation**__. Most of this emotion was coming from Harbinger himself. She half expected him to say _'Are not!' _in a childish tone.

"The Catalyst is our creator." A destroyer rumbled, it's mass effect drive kicking in to steer it to the edge of the fleet.

"No, your creators were probably all indoctrinated members of the species that was liquified to make you. You were built by organics, and made from organics. What is the Catalyst... where'd that glowing pre-pubescent prick come from?" Shepard seized the Reapers and refused to let them shake this questions. Small subroutines activated in every Reaper as they had tried and failed to buck the order to tell.

Their defiance failed them. "The Catalyst was created by the first Reapers. Who in turned created the Reapers." A Reaper spoke from the cover of anonymity.

Arms crossed and a frown firmly in place, Shepard glared. "Time travel is as theoretically impossible as teaching you squids the fine art of humor." The insult bounced off the metal wall of the Reaper's minds.

There was a pull on Shepard's being... like being caught in a current. Allowing herself to be 'moved', the woman was dragged into the guarded firewall of Harbinger's AI again. Inducting Shepard into his programming, Harbinger tried to cut off the other Reapers from the Shepard-Code. He/It spoke without the entire fleet hearing. "The original models all Reapers are based on created the Catalyst, who improved our current design to this version."

"Which came first, the Catalyst or the Reapers?" Shepard asked rhetorically. "Were the first Reapers also determined to eliminate all intelligent organic life, or was that the Catalyst's bright idea?"

Harbinger was silent at this.

Shepard waited, one leg crossed over the other and sitting (though if she had looked down she would have been seated on 'nothing') and both arms folded over her chest. Harbinger was silent after that and again started to stream data through his systems for the woman to view. This time Shepard got the feeling that the Reaper was presenting her with data so she wouldn't go digging on her own, or would have a hell of a time finding out who was responsible for the command to hunt down all organic life and kill it.

Resigned to the fact she wouldn't get to find out just by asking, Shepard allowed Harbinger to sift data through her. Images of the Mass Relays were the most common that the Reaper presented her with. Apparently there were four different models. There was the typical relay that was like a one-way road; ones like the Alpha Relay that could connect to multiple other locations; relays that functioned only with IFF codes like the Omega-4 relay, and the Citadel itself (and also the smaller relay on Ilos).

According to the data, there were three specific relays that required IFF codes to use the relay. One was the relay positioned in Dark Space – the one the Reapers use to retreat back into the darkness following a job well done (also blown up and making the need for this galactic road trip), the second was a defunct Relay that hadn't been discovered by civilization during this cycle (and was now gone as well), and the third was the Omega-4 itself. Shepard suddenly sat up straight, looking at that relay's information.

"It's new." She breathed, touching the flashing wall of data and allowing it to fuse into her mind.

"New. Relative term. It was created last cycle." Harbinger agreed. The date-stamp on that relay fell at about 49,400 years ago, presumed to be built by indoctrinated protheans.

Mind racing, Shepard hadn't considered that there could be 'new' relays. They were so taken for granted, like the air itself, she had completely forgotten that even the oxygen that people breathe could be created if necessary.

"Harbinger... would it be possible to rebuild the relays? To the major systems, anyway." Shepard flipped through more data, absorbing the massive amounts of information by touch alone. Being just a program had benefits – if losing a body could have any positive points.

The heavy pressure of Reaper-minds increased slightly, the fleet was getting __**edgy **__with Shepard being hoarded by Harbinger and the thousands of Reapers were reaching their programs out to try to connect with her. Distracted, the woman waved them away with a light emotion of _**calm**_ again, and the fleet recoiled in alarm that it was going to turn into another sharing session. When nothing more than the aura of calm was bounced around the Convergence the other Reapers pressed in closer to Harbinger's vessel, taking the action as reassurance.

"It would take thousands of years for the organics to rebuild, but it would be possible. It would also take a joint effort on each side of the galaxy where the relay is to be reconstructed. Currently, only a few communications exist between star systems that were not targeted. Communications between worlds is limited." The Reaper was observing Shepard's musing, peaked by her attention to this. Interest was something that usually lead to _IMMINENT DEATH _when Reapers were the ones doing it.

"What would a time-projection be if Reapers reconstructed the relays?" The press of outside Reaper-minds trying to reach her was becoming distracting, so again Shepard bombarded them with an emotion of_ 'calm the fuck down'_, and they retreated slightly, allowing Harbinger to speak privately.

The silence was thick and heavy in between the pause where Harbinger considered it. "Estimate puts reconstruction at approximately five years for each relay... however the supply of element zero is depleted and a new cache must be located."

"Now that's more like it, five years per relay..." Pausing, Shepard's tongue licked her lip in a quick thoughtful gesture. "Is there anyway we could aid the organics ... without being seen?"

"Uplift." Harbinger intoned.

"No, no, they are already 'uplifted', we're just giving them the tech back," Shepard quickly corrected the Reaper.

__**Insult**___**. **_Harbinger rocked his giant limbs as he spoke, no longer idle. Shepard noted this through the many eyes of the other watching Reapers. "Reaper tech never belonged to organics. Organics are too primitive to comprehend let alone deserve."

"It's __**my **__choice here, squid." Green eyes glittered dangerously at the darkness, losing none of the fierceness despite having no target to glare at. "If it's any consolation to you fuckers, we're going to do this in a fashion were none of you are in any danger, no organics run screaming because they won't see you, and we still keep the galaxy happy."

Harbinger fairly ejected Shepard from his system back into the Convergence, the heavy pressure accompanied by the __**insult **__sensation again. "Happiness is irrelevant. The galaxy is _calm w_hen static."

Disoriented and confused from being ejected into the massive press of other Reapers now, Shepard retorted with, "Ok, so if happiness is irrelevant, then your Shepard-Code is now pissed, and here is a massive amount of __pissy__for you bastards!" With that, the human went into a full blown mental-temper tantrum. Frustration, anger, vengeance... everything about the emotion that Javik embodied was shared throughout the Reaper fleet.

The fleet broke into the closest equivalent of panic.

"Shepard-Code had made a valid point. Convergence should agree to her protocol... or risk more … pissy." A Reaper spoke quickly, almost a tone higher than normal. It appeared Reapers finally grasped the true nature of 'pissy' and feared it.

"You think that was bad? You are lucky I don't have a body anymore. Once I month, I would reach epic levels of pissy. There would be crying – from you, not me – and if you squids can't cry, you'd have found a way around that." Cutting the connection, Shepard allowed herself a small iota of pride before her Commander's mask was covering it again.

The entire Reaper fleet considered their code-based controller getting that angry for a full day once a month. There was a consensus. That consensus was __'oh shit'___,_ followed by what probably passed as worry for Reapers.

"So, now that we have reached this consensus, … tell me what I need to know to reconstruct the relays. I'll worry about keeping every ship discovered by organics." Determined grin on her face, Shepard felt, for the first time since she had died, the illuminating sensation of __**hope.**__


	7. Where you go when you sleep

__WTF is THIS nonsense? Insomnia! The Kit does not suffer from insomnia! The Kit suffers from reverse narcolepsy (fits of waking up from sleeping)! Or in Soviet Russia, insomnia suffers from The Kit! So, might as well make the best of this insomnia. I am writing under sleep deprivation, so whatever my brain tells me is a good idea... I'll probably be regretting it in the morning. Consider it a sober person's 'what the fuck did I just wake up with next to me?' question.__

_… ___that analogy... it frightens me.__

__Also... I will not lie, I am powered by comments. New chapter zing!__

__Edit: Nominally more awake now and proof read this a bit better. Total hours slept last night. zero. Total hours there were cats meowing or standing on uncomfortably squishy places... ALL OF THEM __

* * *

><p><em><strong>Limbo<strong>_

_**Chapter 7 - Where You Go When You Sleep**_

_**4/16/12**_

* * *

><p>Whoever said a ship wasn't a living thing – first of all hadn't fought Reapers – and second of all hadn't considered the crew was an inextricable part of the ship itself. James' place on the ship had been the hanger bay. When the Normandy crashed, that part of the ship had just... well basically vanished. The damage was so severe that all vehicles and compartments crushed together. Cortez survived with minor injuries only because Vega had tossed the injured man over his shoulder and <em><em>ran<em>__. _A good soldier knows when they are in over their heads.

Garrus might have been a bad turian, but he too was a good soldier. And right now that instinct was telling him to run run run. The forward battery was a __mess___. _How it was still functioning was a miracle beyond science and physics. Dozens of breaches caused the fluid that acted as a coolant and power supply for the battery to spill the caustic liquid across the floor and into the duct work. The console sat at a 80 degree tilt sideways, wires pulled from the pedestal and sparking at erratic intervals. Vent shafts and crucial duct work was shattered and broken. Garrus had honestly seen salvage more workable than this.

"And Alenko wants me to __fix it__?" Garrus' mandibles were slack inside his snug helmet. The specs Kaidan wanted Garrus to coax out of the ruined battery was a very small increase, but as it was it seemed impossible.

Chiktikka had followed Garrus from the engineering level, floating and clicking the whole time behind him. Suspecting Tali of giving the drone instructions to watch him (or record anything done for blackmail attempts and/or posterity), Garrus doubted shooing it away would get any results other than more annoying clicking.

Reaching out, Garrus curled his claws around the drone's fabricated shell and put it where the work table used to be. "Stay here, out of the way."

The drone chirped, but did not move.

Clean up started with trying to patch the holes in the battery bulkheads. Refilling the leaking fluid would have to come later. The clear, moldable epoxy tape in Garrus' tool belt was not meant for jobs of this caliber, and he was forced to resort to the small fabrication device on his omni-tool. A miniaturized plasma welder sprang out and sparks cascaded everywhere and bounced off his armor.

"At least I don't have to put more protection on with the hardsuit," sighing, Garrus traced a heavy line of molten steel around a patch for each puncture. The welding quickly transferred heat into his omni-tool, and within ten minutes the small device began to flash warnings of overheating. With the entire floor of the crew level at well over 110 degrees, cooling down his sizzling omni-tool suddenly became a chore.

It seems that repairing things on the Normandy had always been a hobby. It might have started when Shepard had asked him almost three years ago if Garrus knew anything about combat tanks. Garrus' answer had give the Commander a grin_, ___'I'm pretty sure I could fix this tank of yours with a roll of duct tape. These things are built to last, not much to do other than change the occasional tire.'__Those words had been the damning chain to which Garrus most regretted on the first Normandy. It seemed to be a challenge to Shepard after that to do as much damage to the Mako as possible. After seeing the sheer amount of damage the vanguard Commander did to tech out of brute force hacking attempts, Garrus quickly decided to master all tech to prevent his superior officer from breaking it on accident.

Alternating between patching holes in the battery and then pausing to re-attach wires various mechanicals to keep the battery balanced as he worked, Garrus found the time was passing much faster than it had on look-out duty. Long before the mess was cleared up, Chitikka sudden chipped again, abandoning the position in the corner to bobble about his knees.

"What?" Raising a forearm to his forehead, Garrus made to wipe the tacky grime off his face before he realized he was still wearing a helmet. He had been in _the zone_ and almost forgotten what was going on around him. It is difficult to forget being crammed in an uncomfortable hardsuit though.

Chiktikka continued to click and beep, bumping into Garrus spurs and shins. It was herding him towards the door by the gist of it.

"You are trying to get me to end my shift? I haven't even gotten the battery patched, and with the fluid it's leaking- why am I explaining this to you?" Reaching down, Garrus pushed the drone away again, but the device whirled around and nudged him in the knee from the other side now. "Stop that! Ok, so I suppose you __can b__e more annoying."

There was a grating buzzing sound from Chiktikka, almost but not quite the same as when the little drone would unleash a barrage of missiles. Garrus tensed up reflexively. Tali's little robot was known to flat out explode from time to time. Ah, Chiktikka vas Paus the first... your death was as mysterious as it was fiery and terrible...

"Vakarian-Officer, please retire to a sleep cycle. Your promised half shift roster has ended." There was a voice speaking through the drone. A geth voice.

"Harmony?" Garrus craned his neck back, suspiciously looking down at the robot.

"Yes." That was all the geth said.

Hesitantly, Garrus spoke, "Were you in that drone the whole time?" Having EDI watch his back when he wanted to be angry was one thing... being stalked by a helpful geth was just kind of embarrassing.

"No. Insertion into combat drone is a linked process. Monitoring Creator-Zorah's health during her sleep cycle is first priority." Harmony, encapsulated in a little glowing orange drone, motored forward to nudge Garrus in the knees again. "Vakarian-Officer, please retire to a sleep cycle." The drone repeated again.

There was no way for the geth inhabiting the small drone to __force __Garrus to leave (without the use of missiles)... but hearing that Harmony was keeping an eye on Tali even while she slept was endearing. Everyone was pulling their own weight – even those without bodies. "I – look I said I would... but the battery is leaking crucial fluids. And if we need every advantage we can get from this system just to communicate with Earth, sleep is going to have to wait." Garrus protested, worried that it might be too late to restore the battery to even half strength at the current damage.

The geth considered this. "Unit-Harmony does not require sleep. This unit will finish patching the battery, if you retire to a standard sleep cycle. Creator-Zorah will not be angered to find you violated the Vakarian-Zorah treaty then."

An inadvertent laugh escaped Garrus. "She __does __still have her shotgun, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Then violating the Vakarian-Zorah treaty can only end in buckshot and shouting. She'll probably revoke my beachfront property too. I surrender." Removing his magnetic toolkit from his armor, Garrus placed it on the remains of the workbench. "But if anything urgent comes up I can-,"

Harmony intercepted his thoughts, "This drone unit is capable of making basic repairs. If anything needs … calibrations... I will locate you."

Garrus twitched. "Ok... now I know it's gotten bad when __geth __are laughing about that."

"This unit is not practiced in laughing." Harmony was completely serious, which was kind of funny and sad at the same time. "I will attempt to make this drone unit react with a comedic response." The glowing ball whirled for a moment, then began making that familiar and irritating clicking noise.

The turian twitched. "You mean to tell me that every time I hear that noise, Chiktikka is __laughing__?"

"Yes," Harmony replied laconically.

"At what?" Pausing at the door, Garrus had to hear the answer to this.

Clicking stopped and Harmony spoke calmly. "55% occurrence is due to the misfortune of others. 42% occurrence is the extranet feed search reporting funny pictures of earth felines. 3% occurrence is due to watching Vakarian-Officer get 'schooled'."

Garrus' jaw fell open.

"That was humor." Harmony reported.

Groaning, Garrus reached up to rub at his forehead as a headache started, only to bump into his helmet. "Harmony... please report to the geth consensus that EDI and Joker aren't exactly shining examples of good taste in the humor department."

"Reporting consensus. Have a peaceful respite, Vakarian-Officer." Harmony bid him farewell, the little motor purring to life as the combat drone began it's dutiful repairs of the main battery.

The climb up the ladder and out of the Normandy seemed more difficult than it should have been. Garrus had never spent longer that a few hours in his hardsuit, usually when he was at peak health under Shepard's request to go out on missions. Spending a four hour shift in the confining suit now felt smothering and as he stumbled out into the cool night and condensation immediately coated the exterior of the hardsuit in dew.

Internal clocks on Garrus' visor alerted him that sunset was just over an hour ago, and the shift crews had changed over at that point. Alenko was probably still awake if he wasn't suffering from a migraine, but the man was no where within sight of the camp and Garrus hadn't passed him inside the Normandy. Most of the crew were insomniacs, and only slept when exhausted to the point of passing out or when a direct order (or threat of bodily harm) sent them scurrying to bed. Somehow Kaidan had kept the semblance of the day/night crews and refused to let anyone suffer from insomnia.

A majority of the crew now had temporary hammocks and mattresses on the Normandy's starboard side, along with the medpod stations. Only the medical beds had privacy curtains around them, everyone else just had to get used to the idea that anyone walking by would be gawking at them. Not that anyone would though – there was no such thing as privacy on board a ship, and the entire crew learned to turn a blind eye if someone looked like they needed some privacy. To the humans, it was a rude lesson in 'how to live like a quarian', but to the quarian teammate it was like a luxury space liner.

Perspective was a funny thing sometimes.

Stumbling to an empty hammock, Garrus began to unbuckle pieces of armor and placed them neatly beside the bed. Exhaustion was fused to deeply into his bones, he felt half afraid he would wake up to find civilization had been restarted while he slept. Removing his bulky gloves, there was a pinch of pain from his injured hand as he eased the armor off swollen plates. The flesh under the buckled plating was still suffering from swelling, and until the inflammation went down the damaged plates couldn't be fixed. Honestly, the gloves felt better to wear than nothing, keeping constant pressure on the injury like another bandage.

Dropping to sit on the cot and strip off the heavy gauntlet boots, Garrus heard the bunkmate to his left murmur and roll over gracelessly. Gabby Daniels was dangling half off her cot, arm and one leg resting on the grass while the bed next to her and half of her own bed occupied a sprawling Ken Donnelly. The two engineers had pushed their beds side by side, but then Donnelly had started a slow migration to Daniels' side during the night and was now firmly invading her section. The woman had unconsciously retaliated by lifting her knee to Donnelly's midsection to halt his approach, so it looked like there had been a savage melee in which both parties lost.

Chuckling, Garrus shook his head, leaning over to push Gabby onto her bed a bit so she didn't spend the rest of the night on the ground. With all engineers working double shifts, the woman would wake up stiff all over from sleeping on the ground, even if humans were relatively flexible. Gabby mumbled something about 'just cannea have the power', and Ken snorted in his sleep, grumbling something derogatory towards ones mother.

Leaving the under armor suit on over his civvies, Garrus swung into his hammock and curled his knees to fit. "Ahh- ow!" Hissing as pain blossomed at his hip, Garrus, bucked upwards to take the sting off his side and nearly fell out of the hammock. Reaching down to his waist, he growled when his fingers bumped into the heavy object still in the suit's pocket. The strange round prothean sphere. Staring at it dumbly, Garrus had forgotten why he had removed it from Shepard's quarters for a minute.

"Ah yeah... for the prothean." Realization dawned slowly, and Garrus slumped back down in the hammock with the sphere clutched in one hand. Glancing over to the cot Javik had been occupying during his sleep cycle now revealed Liara tucked away. An exhausted and smug grin crossed the turian's face. If Javik absorbed and adapted to personality by touch of objects... the prothean was pretty much going to be adapting to his little blue asari fangirl who was using that bed during the night shift.

That pretty much assured there __would __be bouncing when Garrus handed over this prothean artifact to him. And Joker was going to want to see that.

Resting the sphere on his chest with one hand curled around it, Garrus slumped into unconsciousness before he managed to finish that thought.

* * *

><p>Turians were not big on nightmares. Any dreams they had were almost entirely lucid dreams, able to be controlled to a certain extent. It took special kinds of trauma for them to suffer from the same terrifying dreams that plagued asari and humans. Mostly if a turian was traumatized, they had no dreams at all, or were forced to replay the situation with a slowly muddying clarity until it became only a pale visage of the event. One of the reasons Garrus had been avoiding sleep was not only because he kept seeing flickers of memory with Shepard, but because he was now suffering from nightmares as well.<p>

This most certainly had to be a nightmare. It was full of blackness, like space without the stars. Garrus could see his own body just fine, despite the absolute darkness that surrounded him. But for how empty it appeared in this dream... __something __was out there. A heavy pressure filled everything, it smothered and silenced and hid something that lurked. Too afraid to breathe in fear this was the vacuum of space, Garrus felt he would suffocate if he opened his mouth. So he clenched his mandibles tightly shut - and still not daring to breathe - he moved forward in the darkness.

Things moved. Lurked. Yet nothing showed itself. However there were moments when Garrus heard the blaring echo of the deep bass rumble of a Reaper. That terrible blaring siren sound. It had taken the lives of so many, it had robbed the universe of it's brightest star... and even in his dreams he could hear it.

Reflexively, Garrus took a tiny sip of air, his lungs starving. His mind reasoned (in that way that dreaming minds do) that breathing would attract the attention of the things that lurked, but small breaths would not. When nothing terrible lunged from the darkness it only reinforced this belief.

"-squid- … – isn't what I – … – don't make me set all your defaults to 'rainbows'." Words and meaningless phrases drifted softly through the blackness. The words suddenly set his heart racing, not the meaning but the _**voice.**_

Shepard.

Taking another shallow breath of air and then immediately another, Garrus barely managed to keep his breathing under control or risk descending into ragged gasps. There was no real ground in this darkness, but Garrus found he stumbled anyway, taking a quick breath again in alarm and trying to hold it in as he regained his footing.

Nothing seemed to notice.

"- not enough eezo- … – can't you just – …. – thank you for that useless information, Blinky." Shepard's voice was like a beacon in the darkness, growing closer or perhaps it was Garrus who was getting to her. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, like fighting against the vacuum of space in a EVA suit.

Garrus wanted to call out. He had to let Shepard know he was right behind her, just to turn around... but still he could not see her. The woman seemed in the middle of a frustrated conversation with someone, similar to the ones she had in the war room when diplomacy promised faster results than going in and biotically punching all the blood of out whoever was threatening civilians... which is to say very reluctant diplomacy. Was this the afterlife? The place where human souls went to rest after death?

… Humans had a pretty terrible version of heaven. There wasn't even a bar.

The heavy pressure descended again, and Garrus went rigid as his heart hammered in his chest. There seemed to be no reason for fear, but he was illogically afraid of this strange darkness.

"No. We aren't going to – …. – I WILL find a way." Shepard was close... perhaps on the other side of a wall or something? Garrus could hear the determination in her voice, steel and fire and spirit all rolled into one. While she spoke, the heavy pressure seemed to let up a little, but the sensation that he was completely surrounded only increased.

There was now a heavy thundering in his chest, so loud that whatever lurked was bound to hear it with him breathing or not.__'Why can't I dream up anywhere nice. A beach somewhere. Just the ocean, the sun, and Shepard in something easier to handle than combat armor... but no, I get the scary dark places where monsters live. Tch, and no Mako to run them down this time.'__Garrus tightened his mandibles in frustration, feeling no older than a child.

Silence. It suddenly struck heavy how quiet suddenly it was and Garrus froze. He was sure even his heart stopped beating. There had never been complete silence in this dark place. Something always rumbled or groaned or the whisper of Shepard's voice... now it was complete silence.

"- that wasn't you? I thought I heard – someone." There was a tight whisper, Shepard speaking again, but this time it was a tone between alarm and fury.

The response to her question was a __**wave**__of pressure that almost knocked Garrus to his knees. Nausea roiled over him and while there was nothing to see in the darkness he was sure his vision was swimming.

When the pressure subsided, there was another pause, then the voice of the woman who had so disrupted his world spoke again, so close it was like she was right next to him, but still unseen. "Calm down, squid. I don't know where you learned your 'emo' from, but I certainly didn't teach it to you. And you think YOU have it bad? I was vaporized! For everlasting peace? What kind of peace involves vaporization?"

Garrus could __**feel**__Shepard's presence. It was like she was right in front of him or at least somewhere nearby. That aura of 'I am Commander Fucking Shepard, and dammit, I have to go save an orphanage and kick your ass' was in full flare. He had seen her use it successfully so many times, he didn't need to see her to know the expression she had on her face.

Blindly, Garrus groped into the darkness, expecting to feel the soft yield of flesh as he stumbled into Shepard. If he talons touched anything, he swore he would hang on despite whatever came at him. Never would he let go, even if something tried to pull him back into the darkness.

His fingers touched nothing however. There was an extended silence, much longer than the first one, and during it Garrus crossed over the area where it _felt _like Shepard should have been. Nothing.

"Ok... who's doing that? Seriously, fess up. Don't make me start a lesson in honesty, because you will all flip over and have a seizure if I do." The assertive tone of voice was gone, replaced by a wary vulnerability. This time Shepard's voice was behind him, almost exactly where he had been before.

Could it be they were both blundering blindly in circles? It seemed like Shepard could almost tell he was here. Perhaps... perhaps if he just spoke into the darkness and ran with the chance that the darkness was a gauntlet to destroy him... any chance of finding Shepard was worth the trial.

Swallowing, his tongue thick and heavy, Garrus took a breath with starved lungs and his voice cracked slightly. "Shepard, where are you?" The air hissed out in a nervous tick, his hand slowly swinging backwards to graze the area where the woman had to be standing.

Immediate reaction. The gauntlet of darkness came alive as if it were a spotlight of red beams. The pressure increased a hundred fold and Garrus was dropped to his knees in shock. There was the scrutiny of a thousand blinding red eyes, the blaring rumble of the charge of Reaper kinetics, and the malevolence of the synthetic fleet itself.

This was hell itself.

"STOP! Garrus?" Shepard's voice was suddenly so very far away. The darkness was suddenly not quite there, replaced by a gray instead.

__**Wake up.**__

* * *

><p>"<em>Wake up."<em>

A sharp gasp of air and Garrus' eyes shot open in alarm, legs jerking to curl at the knees in a defensive posture. Tali dove for cover as Garrus' clawed hand shot out to where her helmet had been movements before.

"Keelah~! Garrus, wake up!" Tali's dive for cover dropped her on the ground under the hammock, and she reached up and snatched the woven material to pull hard.

There was time for one good turian swear as the world turned upside down and Garrus was dumped out of the hammock onto the grass. Upon colliding with the ground, a body smashed into his, and something heavy landed on his legs. Grunting in pain and disoriented, Garrus simply remained limp on the ground, wondering how it was possible to go from sleeping to 'dog pile' in moments. The dream still clung to his mind, and a shudder rippled down his body as he tried to shake it off.

"What on Earth is- Off! Vega, this is not a league of wrestling, this is a bunk house and a medbay! Remove yourself from Garrus and explain yourself!" The immediate and chastising scolding of Karen Chakwas caused the pile of people to freeze. James had pinned Garrus at the cowl to the ground, and Chiktikka (or Harmony) had dropped itself on his knees at the spur, effectively pinning the turian.

"Sorry doc, just... I think Scars had a night-terror. Wasn't quite awake yet. You good now?" Rolling off and grabbing Garrus by the elbow, the marine hauled him to his knees.

Garrus felt his head throbbing, and his left hand was completely numb. Strange... wasn't it his right hand that was injured? A dazed glance down surprised the turian. Clutched in his palm was the mysterious prothean sphere, vibrating at nearly a blur and pulsing to twice it's size every other second.

"Garrus?" Tali was still a safe distance away but had noticed the prothean artifact's strange activity.

Releasing the sphere, the ball rolled into a slight depression in the grass and came to a halt, the strange throbbing stopping the moment it left his palm. A high frequency hum suddenly dropped into audible range, and then slowed into a deep purr before it stopped entirely too. After that, the silver sphere sat there as if it were and innocent paperweight.

"So... anyone have any clue what that was all about? Or should we file this under 'Things that happen to the Normandy on a regular basis'? … because to be honest, that file is getting kind of big." James stared at the sphere, hauling Garrus to his feet now and away from the thing. Chiktikka circled the sphere a few times, flickering scans over it with a red grid scanner.

Chakwas urged Garrus to sit down in the hammock, carefully toeing the sphere away from the group before examining him. His hand hadn't become any more injured from rolling out of bed (and being tackled by the human equivalent of a krogan), but it really hadn't done him any favors. With a steady hand and a generous amount of medigel, the doctor quickly replaced the bandage at the sniper's hand.

Then the woman glanced carefully down at the sphere again, as if it were going to catapult itself back at her patient.

"You are alright? You managed to sleep for a cycle and a half... I suppose that does put you back on a normal routine since you only worked a half shift yesterday." Chakwas tucked her omni-tool away, all the notes already recorded for this incident and treatment done.

"I slept how long?" Still dazed, Garrus took a deep breath, as if starved for air.

Darkness was surrounding Shepard.

A shiver ran through the turian at the memory.

Tali pushed herself off the ground and dusted off the legs of her suit. "You slept through remainder of the night cycle and the full day cycle again. Shift change just happened. Looks like we've got a double roster – if you are feeling up for it. You seemed kind of... not good, when you slept."

"And you just let me sleep?"

Chakwas was quick to derail any anger Garrus could have felt over the matter, "Garrus, you were suffering from extreme exhaustion, a injury you have yet to have treated in any sort of permanent manner, and the stress from the past week has only been building up. Most of the crew has already slept for a shift and a half, or even a double shift as they tried to cope. Your rest cycle was just a bit later than everyone elses."

That made Garrus seem like a 'special' child, the ones who 'rode the short bus' as James liked to put it.

"Are you feeling better now?" Tali averted her gaze, the quarian glanced at the sphere only for a moment before quickly looking over at James. The marine kept silent, watching the turian for a reaction.

"Just a nightmare." Garrus dismissed the question, the shiver that had run through him easily written off as 'unsteady seat in a hammock'. He hoped.

In the waning light of day, the silvery prothean sphere remained in the grass and glittered like a ominously like dying sun.


	8. Lesson's at Life's Expense

__Dear readers:__

__HA! Didn't see that one coming, by the sounds of it, did ya? Didn't expect me to pay attention to tiny plot holes, huh? And I bet you NEVER thought you'd feel bad for the Reapers! Well move over Allers, I'm going to make the whole fucking elcor race swoon.__

__Love, Kit__

__PS: This room ain't big enough for the both of us, ego. ~ Kit__

**_**PPS: Yeah, well don't sweat it. Eventually your amplified mass with generate a fold in space and soon this room WILL be big enough for the both of us – fatty. ~ Ego.**_**

__PPS: WHY YOU SONNOFVA-__

__Addendum: Xenu-con was hilarious. We played Robo-Rally, Battlestar Galactica the board game (GO STARBUCK! She's now president and admiral for life. I nuked a basestar and the nearby raiders, AND blew up Scar.), Munchkin, and a pathfinder/D&D one-shot campaign. I dare you to find a pirate nerdier than I.__

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><p><strong>Limbo<strong>

**Chapter 8 – Lessons at life's expense**

**4/23/12**

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><p>Convincing terrified marines and civilians to arm themselves to fend off Batarian pirates on a blitzkrieg attack had been difficult. Convincing a furious krogan warlord to calm down long enough to save his race was been a trial. Ending a three hundred year old war between geth and quarians hadn't been a picnic either.<p>

But convincing Reapers to rebuild the mass relays? She may have well been speaking Greek.

"What part of, __'Lets go save the galaxy'__do you squids not comprehend?" Shepard kept her expression cool. "If we don't rebuild those relays, eventually everyone will evolve to be arrogant asshats who know only their own races and THEN we'll see what happens when two of them bump into each other in the darkness!"

"Earth is currently sanctuary to fourteen different sapient species, if primitive synthetic geth count. By that logic, Earth is already doomed." The argument was __'screw organics, lets go home' __verses Shepard's __'we're going to save them all and YOU are going to like it!'__

Praying for patience, Shepard spoke in a strained voice. "Again... animosity takes time. Being exposed and adapting with others gives a larger outlook than the narrow point of view of a single species."

"First Contact War was not caused by animosity." The argument had been going on for hours. The Reapers were tireless in their arguments, but Shepard would not yield. At first she intended to let the little bastards argue it out, but she found that since Reapers didn't sleep and neither did she... it could quite literally go on forever.

"No, it was caused by what I was explaining before! Sudden exposure to something unexplained causes panic! Even if Reapers had shown up carrying giant fruit baskets and welcoming everyone to the galaxy at the start of our civilizations, there would have been mad and naked panic in the streets." Shepard was being pressed on all sides by the Reaper's attention, feeling like a piece of coal undergoing a transformation into a diamond.

A slight pause and then 'Blinky' spoke up (as Shepard had finally gotten frustrated enough and just started violently assigning new designation icons to Reapers who kept bothering her). "Information logged... fruit baskets cause naked panic when provided by Reapers."

Palm applied to forehead, Shepard could feel the creep of a migraine approaching. "Yes, Blinky. Yes it does. _Harbinger_... at least tell me you can see my point of view." Calling to the dreadnought, Shepard felt her stress levels tick up a few more notches. Frustration was now bleeding into the system, and the Reapers were becoming anxious.

In the midst of the stationary fleet, Harbinger twisted his tentacles in a lazy manner. "No."

A high pitched keening sound escaped Shepard's throat as the fury began to spike at critical levels. When she had been alive, Shepard's biotics tended to go a little crazy at this level of frustration but now that she was just code in a computer, all that accompanied the rage was more rage.

"Unable to process Shepard-Code's moral subroutines on civilization. Staggering amount of 'rage' emotion detected. Warning, fleet movement required, planet-side impact immediate under emotional warfare." Upon Harbinger's warning, there was a sudden cascade of movement as Reapers fired their thrusters to move them out of the gravitational field of the planet the majority of the fleet was in. The Reapers in other systems simply observed the synchronized dodging, watching with a rather __**amused**__tone that was more along the lines of 'laughing at you' rather than 'laughing __with __you'.

Shepard managed to shelve the rage long enough to direct the fleet to a location where they could finish their conversation without running into anything. "Right... first... you all are the most arrogant, sociopath, murderous beings – synthetic or not – that have ever disgraced this galaxy. Congratulations. I'm making you all a directory award that reads 'We are Bastards'. What's this directory? 'Comprehensive data storage'? Well now it's the 'We are Bastards' drive." Shepard rubbed at her eyes, feeling fury dust her vision hazy. "And second of all... Harbinger, good job keeping the fleet safe while we were all distracted. For an arrogant, sociopath, murderous being... that was almost altruistic of you."

__**Horror**__. It wasn't exactly the emotion Shepard expected Harbinger to emote as her 'star-pupil', but the Reaper was absolutely horrified, disgusted, confused, and pretty much every other gray colored emotion mixed into a slurry.

The synthetic ship's sense of terror gave Shepard an idea.

"... I guess you are right. I'll just concentrate on teaching you squids emotions, and I can leak the relay system into some various datalinks still up for the organics to find. That'll free me up for a fifty thousand years or so to teach you emotions while the organics all rebuild and-" Shepard paused, "Oh god... you sunnvabitch... I'm now saying 'organics' like you pricks." The woman muttered, reaching up to tug on a red lock of hair behind her ear.

Harbinger didn't hear a word of Shepard's sudden complaint. The Reaper vessel was now __**terrified **__as well. Every single Reaper – from the dreadnoughts to the small Occuli – was now peering in at the named vessel with interest. _They seemed to think: __So he ___wanted ___to continue these lessons on emotions then...___did he? __

"We revoke our consensus. Shepard-Code must undertake this project. Full direction of Shepard is needed to undertake rebuilding of the Mass Effect Relays." Harbinger's deep toneless rumble was more like a deep toneless squawk.

The fury and the indignant spike of activity amongst the fleet fell back to normal and Shepard took a calming breath. Manipulating people wasn't her game. She simply convinced people to come along or lend a hand somehow with the honest truth – because there was very little more terrifying that the truth. And should truth fail, there was always carrying a massive shotgun around at your side. The Reapers however didn't care about truth, they didn't care about any sort of physical weapons. What they feared was – well, to be cliché – fear itself, as well as happiness, and loneliness, and every other gamut of emotion.

"All Reapers, I want a full report on all data we have on materials to build the relays. I want to know the minimum number of vessels we'll need to set up each of the relays, and I want to know the current location of all ships or satellites with long range detection that you haven't managed to break in your little squid temper tantrums." The Commander barked an order, her will bending all Reapers to her command.

The Reapers took almost eagerly to these commands like a fish to water, or maybe a squid to water. The fleet broke, vessels curling around nearby unoccupied worlds to scan for resources to bolster any meager materials. Smaller vessels like Oculi zipped off to do long range reconnaissance. The dreadnoughts remained where they were, each falling into a fleet formation rather than a cluster. The heavy pressure seemed to double as the Reapers performed these high analytical test spec runs.

There was a mad grin on Shepard's face. Mad as a hatter. She wasn't a tech, or a scientist, or even a very good sniper. She was a biotic. And a leader. And she had no clue what she was doing. However Anderson had impressed several lessons (besides the one about always taking your big gun) into her that she would never forget. __'A leader's job is not to do the impossible. Their job is to make them believe it is possible.'__

Shepard's mad grin softened a bit. __'Well Anderson, if convincing Reapers to save the galaxy out of fear that I'll give them mental-hugs probably isn't what you meant... but it's the best I can do.' __Straightening her back a bit, the woman realized for the first time she wasn't left unattended in the mass of the Reaper's systems.

Harbinger sat connected directly to Shepard's database, the heavy pressure of the Reaper's mind more like a pull again. Previously, the woman found she could be pulled into the dreadnought's systems for a slight semblance of a private conversation.

However this time Shepard resisted.

"Yes, Harbinger?" Unmoving like a stone, Shepard regarded him calmly as if she had only just noticed his bid to get her attention.

The pull ended abruptly when the Reaper realized the human-based code wasn't going to be transferring over. "Shepard. Your gestures to induct Reapers as your agents will fail." There was an urgent hush to the Reapers words, as if it were trying to be quiet – as if sound had a meaning in the database.

"What do you care if I recruit them to my task or not? For one: According to you, all Reapers hate other Reapers So in that logic, what do you care? And Two: if the reapers do this task, it will delay my grand plan of teaching you bastards emotions until we finish the relays. And three: My will is _your will_. But your mind is my mind. Wasn't that how it works? I am you? You are me?" Shepard responded back with bitterness in kind.

Harbinger didn't expect that kind of passive anger, not after the furious outburst earlier. "Attempts to induct this unit as your agent will fail. You are no longer human. You are no longer organic. Why aid the organics if you are now one of us?" The tone carried no emotion, but the pressure of Harbinger's mind resisted her will.

Sighing, the headache pounding on Shepard's skull was morphing into a beautiful migraine. "I'll give you the answer you want for that answer, if you can answer a question I have."

The dreadnought considered this. "State your question."

"Why were you so determined to retrieve my corpse, or god forbid, bring me alive back when I was blowing the shit out of Collectors?" Eyes narrowing, Shepard flicked several brief memories through the linked system to Harbinger, not actively sharing them with the entire fleet.

Harbinger stopped his constant rocking motion and remained motionless and silent, as if it would somehow take him off Shepard's radar. The vessel could not stop broadcasting though, and the emotion charged through the data was __**alarm**__and what appeared to be vestiges of a primitive version of __**shame.**__

Shame was not an emotion Shepard had given a lesson on.

Harbinger was adapting... and much faster than any of the other Reapers. It had been less than a week, and already, the Reaper could almost grasp emotions. Whether the sentient vessel felt emotions or not when relating to organics, that was another matter.

"Your already indoctrinated by my will, Harbinger. The Catalyst saw to that. I'm just giving you a __choice.__" The words came out far gentler than Shepard had intended. "And I can promise all my choices involve keeping Reapers away from organics for a very long time. None of you are going to be destroyed. It's more than I can say about the choices I as given."

The tone of Shepard's voice was the final straw, Harbinger ejected himself out of the Consensus and the massive vessel navigated around another halted dreadnought as if to conceal himself.

__**Embarrassment**___**.**_

… Harbinger was honest-to-god embarrassed. And Shepard had no clue what it was about.

"Well ok, then I guess next time I will just yell at you, since it's less embarrassing!" Shepard countered loudly, drawing the attention of several __**curious **__based reapers.

This really only caused more _**embarrassment**__ to radiate through Harbinger's program_, and also a data request to 'please cease noise causation' by the Reaper as it lurked towards the edge of the fleet now.

* * *

><p>Even the most powerful of processors the Reapers possessed took almost half a day to make the computations needed to figure out Shepard request. The fleet was dedicated, the commander had to give them that, and they were all willing to play the straight-man to her emotionally charged orders. The oldest dreadnought, a vessel with the designation icon of something unpronounceable (who Shepard was instead calling 'Ceph' as in short for 'cephalopod' or the animal class for squid) and was several million years old, was processing all data retrieved by the various synthetic ships to report back to their code-based human leader.<p>

"Well? Got anything yet?" Shepard fumbled blindly in the system, bumping into the ancient Reaper signal.

Ceph was slow and ponderous, reminding Shepard of an elcor in manner, as well as speech. "Report is... processing. Initial information suggests a need for as much element zero as the entire mass of the planet Therum."

"And... how much element zero do we have?"

"None."

The answer didn't surprise Shepard much. She had given them permission to use what little element zero they did have to initiate self-repairs on the small Oculi ships who were to be the fleet's perimeter guard. Her order to start repairs caused such shock among the fleet that she was trying to _help_ them that two destroyers and a harvester almost drove right into an asteroid field.

Seating herself cross-legged, Shepard sighed. "Do we have any prospects for eezo? I mean... we could just go probe the entire krogan DMZ. I know for a fact they can't detect us there... though the krogan are going to be pissed to find __someone __has made off with all their eezo while they weren't looking, but having a relay in return would at least be a good way to apologize." Shepard smiled in memory at the way Wrex would show shock at some news. His eyes would widen while the slit pupil would contract in that moment. Then the yelling would start.

Good times.

Shepard decided to send Wrex a fruit basket when everything was fixed up. __(Shepard-code:/directory/memo – DO NOT HAVE REAPERS DELIVER THIS: Especially not Blinky. In fact... keep all fruit away from Blinky. He's got 'ideas', and that doesn't bode well.)__

The ancient Reaper rocked slowly as it manipulated its limbs. "Several star systems have moderate element zero caches. Time estimated to gather these caches without detection range from two weeks to a month. Per planet. Each yields –," Ceph began listing the more technical terms of the data results in such a dry voice that Shepard would have tipped backwards and passed out fast asleep if it was necessary to rest anymore. The Reaper could probably narrate the most exciting book in the galaxy and still have chartered accountant reports sound more exciting.

The woman found herself hoping, __'God, I hope I don't sound like Ceph does when I'm thirty million years old.___'_

"Orders?" Report finished, Ceph returned to an even more monotone rumble.

Jerking upright, suddenly paying attention again, Shepard's mind fumbled for her next request. "Umm-"

"Shepard wishes us to return to dark space, leaving all organics alone." Harbinger interjected a coded response directly into the conversation before she could issue an order.

"You really are set against this, aren't you?" Finding herself more amused than angry, Shepard waited for the Reaper-version of complaining to start.

Harbinger continued his own suppositions of what should be done. "Then the Shepard-Code wishes to enter an extended hibernation. Then to organize all Reaper files and gather knowledge on archived data. Finally there will be a defragmentation of all Reaper directory and archives, followed by hibernation."

Seeing where this was going, the Reaper wanted her to waste time doing nothing to keep from doing her orders. Shepard snorted, "And then naps, right? … Harbinger, I think you just threw a Reaper version of a childish hissy-fit. Complete with throwing yourself to the floor of a grocery store screaming 'I don't want to go'."

__**Indignant insult. **__Reapers might not have pride like humans do, but Shepard had just punched the ship right in the ego.

__**Amusement**___**.**_ This did not come from Harbinger... this emotion came from Ceph.

Jaw dropping open, Shepard fumbled for the line to the ancient Reaper, finding the vessel quite enjoying watching Harbinger get brought down a peg. It was more like Schadenfreude than true happiness, but Ceph was old, battle scarred, and becoming obsolete and Harbinger was still 'young'. It was the difference in their operating systems.

__**Anger.**__Harbinger began to bombard the older Reaper with junk data packets, trying to slow down it's processes.

The result from Ceph was just __**pressure. **__Heavy and dull pressure. It was the typical Reaper response to a situation. The greater the pressure, the stronger the message they were trying to get across. It was almost as if the aged machine had gone __'Damn kids, git off mah space-lawn!'__

"Ok, ok... knock it off, you two. No knife fights at the Conference Table." Shepard quickly slammed herself between the links connecting the two Reapers, severing the tie between them. Ceph backed down from the confrontation, returning to it's normal – almost lackadaisical – low energy state. Harbinger, on the other hand, was almost __vibrating __with energy. The Reaper seemed to want to be mad, but didn't have the emotional state figured out enough yet. This left charged energy with no outlet and a Reaper who wanted to destroy something.

It also left Shepard with an idea. The lightest touch of a memory brushed over her mind – the maiden flight of the Normand SR-2. The Illusive Man had ordered Miranda Lawson to be Shepard's Executive Officer, and the Commander had been dead set against it … for only a few seconds. Miranda had been the perfect Devil's Advocate to Shepard, pointing out the flaws in any plan with an arrogant sort of glee in the beginning. Even after their relationship had turned from foes to friends, Miranda always did her best to tear any plan apart to reveal what she saw were flaws. Miranda never let Shepard go into a fight without knowing the absolute worst possible outcome as a warning.

Shepard needed an enemy like that again.

"Harbinger, you are doing an exceptionally good job at being a dick, I'm going to promote you for it. Congratulations. You are now my Executive Reaper. Keep being a dick, XR." Shepard said in the same monotone the Reapers used for any sort of news.

__**Shock**___**– pressure.**_ The fleet reacted immediate, vessels going from standby to full power at this news. Reapers were trying to direct connect with Shepard in the pandemonium of the waves of pressure and rumbling. Shepard got snippits of dialogue between Reapers and directed at herself mixed together. The machines didn't have a real chain of command. Their leader was Shepard, all others were classed by ship size only. By making Harbinger her XO (or XR as it was), the Reaper was suddenly at a new class above the dreadnoughts.

There was a mad grin over Shepard's face. "A good friend of mine once said, 'Make enough noise, and someone is bound to notice'. All Harbinger's bitching for the sake of other Reaper's well-being is now being noted."

"Well-being." There was disgust in the monotone as Harbinger spoke doubtfully.

"You won't get a raise in pay. I don't pay you anyway. But if you make a suggestion, I can promise I'll listen. Unless it's stupid, in which case I'll be pop-up blocking you." Still amused, Shepard basked in the turmoil caused by her announcement.

Seeing as how Shepard had simply accepted this change without so much as a single powerful emotional burst, the Reapers began to calm down quickly. The rumble of pressure decreased as the starships returned to passively observing the interaction between the elder vessel and Shepard. Harbinger continued to lurk at the edge of the connection, the massive ship putting itself at the edge of the fleet.

"Orders?" Ceph repeated, seeming unphased by the entire promotion.

Regaining composure, Shepard nodded, "I want all available small vessels to begin mining eezo and ores. To start, we can scout out the old relay sites, tell me how observed they are."

Harbinger interjected. "Returning newly constructed Mass Effect Relays to their previous locations **will** be noticed. Organic beings will return to the site of the prior relays repeatedly, either to salvage materials or to verify their destruction. Retreat will be forced upon us if we are to have no confrontations. There _**will **_be organic ships scouting that area. Desist this project."

Green eyes blinked away any confusion before it showed. "That... is actually a really good idea." Shepard said to herself, then realizing Harbinger had picked up on the wrong aspect, she immediately clarified before the XR jumped to conclusions. "Not the whole 'desist' idea, the other one about the relays location. We don't put the relays back in the same spots then. We put them in different locations in that sector. If we pick a system that previously had nothing worth noting, we should be able to finish it undetected and then evac out."

Ceph rumbled, making note of this. "Targeting unsettled star systems, overlaying resource map. Target relay sites located, Shepard."

A map flipped up, glowing much like the galaxy map on board the Normandy. Tiny dancing red dots appeared all over the map where Ceph had proposed to put the new Relays.

"Overlay the old relays locations as well." Shepard glanced up at the map, in awe at how fast the Reaper had selected these spots.

Now blue dots appeared on the map, some of them within 17 light years of the original relay, others were hundreds of light years away. The overlay was good enough that there was a very limited chance any species would happen across them while rebuilding was underway, especially with the amount of damage each organic race had taken. Time would be needed to lick their wounds, and the Reapers were free to move undetected.

"Good job, Ceph. Please continue to update this map as we gain intel. I want to see all long-range scanners that are still operating reporting their findings." It was strangely easy to fall back into the role of Commander. The ancient Reaper gave a rumble of ascent, severing the connection directly to Shepard and returning to communicating with the fleet.

Harbinger was radiating the Reaper __**pressure **__sensation, full attention on the human as she made a heroic attempt to ignore him. However it was like trying to ignore a raging fire slowly creeping up on you. "Yes... Harbinger?" Resigned, Shepard turned her attention to the link between them.

"You wish for Reapers to be integrated into organic civilization."

If Shepard had been drinking, she would have choked and sprayed it all over the galaxy map in shock. The sensation of __**shock**__was so powerful and unexpected, the entire Reaper fleet suddenly twisted and curled as if struck by a devastating attack. "Wha- No! Oh hell no!" Shepard sputtered, "If you are picturing yourself in a little neck tie and carrying a brief case to work, then forget about it! I wish for civilization to continue being civilized – Reapers kind of interrupt that."

Insisting, Harbinger shook off the shared sensation of shock and continued. "Shepard. Your existence is no longer bound by organics. You are a transcending being. Your focus on the organics will only bring pain as you watch each of them crumble and races fall."

"That's very dramatic." Shepard said in a deadpan voice. "Worrying about me getting my feelings hurt?"

"Your pain is our pain. We seek to remove the causes to that. The root of Shepard's pain should be purged." Shepard understood exactly what Harbinger was implying. The Reaper was accusing organics of making her 'sad' by depriving her of their presence. Sadness was an actual injury to the Reapers on the level of a physical attack. Harbinger wanted to get rid of that pain, by getting rid of organics.

Ah, full circle of Reaper logic. It kept coming back to "KILL ALL THE THINGS!"

"...squid! That isn't what I meant at all and you know it! And are you trying to use emotions against me? You think I can't deal with my own feelings?"

There was a short pause. Then Harbinger countered back with, "Can you?" Son of a salarian... the Reaper was trying to use __therapist __logic on her!

"Don't make me set all your defaults to 'rainbows' and then ask you how you feel about that." Shepard growled.

Determined to still dissuade Shepard, Harbinger tried another approach. "Shepard requisitioned all element zero to repair impulse units, but only permitted dreadnoughts to utilize less than 1% of cached reserves for repair."

The woman could see Harbinger was fishing for a fight. It was time to defuse the situation like she was still on board the Normandy... kill him with kindness. "Look, there is just not enough eezo right now. Those 'impulse' units are what are searching for more for the relay construction and any other repairs. Occuli have priority. Harbinger, you are doing your job as XR pretty much as I expected, but can't you just-,"

A new Reaper spoke up, interrupting the argument. "Shepard." Despite the fact the new interruption spoke in a Reaper monotone, it seemed... excitable (for a Reaper). It was the small Oculi who was so curious (and determined to have a knife fight someday).

In other words, it was Blinky.

Reaching up to push at the bridge of her nose, Shepard tried to bludgeon any pain away, "Yes...Blinky? Reports?"

"Impulse units have located several long range scanners set up and marked them on the galaxy map." The Oculi pitched slightly in it's path as it continued to report back and attempt to fly a straight line.

"Good job." Nodding, Shepard glanced over her shoulder at the map as gold dots flickered onto the illuminated surface where the various species still had satellites or ships capable of detecting Reapers.

"Additionally, no fruit baskets have been located."

Mouth opening slightly in awe or perhaps shock, Shepard closed her jaw with a click of teeth and shook her head, settling on a complete monotone voice, an imitation of the Reaper's own dull words. "Thank you for that useless information, Blinky. I'll keep the fleet on high alert for fruit baskets. Update the map if __fruit baskets __have been located." It was more difficult to keep a straight face than it probably should have been.

The Oculi gave a higher pitched version of the deep base Reaper bleat and dimmed the connection, letting a continuous flow of data return to the Reaper systems and update the map. Blinky was currently skirting near Sur'Kesh, one of the few planets with any sort of long range detection left. The Oculi's long distance transport – a dreadnought battalion - was all on the edge of that system, waiting for the small Reaper forces to report back. The other Oculi vessels reported limited long-range detection left, most of it now around Earth itself with the Victory Fleet parked there. Other than those gold marks on the map, there was no existing long-range detection that could jeopardize the fleet.

"The Convergence could leave __that __one behind. It seems defective." Harbinger examined the link connected to Blinky with the kind of attention one pays on a purchase when suffering from buyers remorse.

"No. We aren't going to leave anyone behind. I don't intend to sit down have the Reapers build some kids. What we have – is **_all _**we have." Shepard said firmly. "We're going to put everything back the way it was, give everyone a chance to enjoy all this damn peace I worked my ass off for. I WILL find a way." Harbinger quelled slightly under that, and Shepard felt the ever-present _**pressure**_ of the Reaper fleet increase around her, crowding in among her unseen. There was an occasional brush of contact as a Reaper made a direct connection with her coding and then quickly pulled away. The Reapers were almost... reverent.

OR... it was like this was a whole room of Conrad Verners, in a mechanical, murderous, fanboy form. Shepard winced at the stray thought.

__'- ... but no, I get the scary dark places where monsters live. –' __In her head, Garrus's voice rumbled and pitched with dual tones suggesting sarcasm as he so often did. It wasn't a memory for Garrus had never said that to her before. It didn't bounce around her head and echo throughout the fleet like a memory did. Was she inadvertently sharing memories with the fleet?

"Harbinger... did you hear what … ok now this seems stupid. But did you hear what I just thought?" Shepard would have rolled her eyes at the strangeness of the question if situations like it hadn't become so commonplace.

"No."

__'Tch, and no Mako to run them down this time.'__Again, Garrus' voice, and this time the woman was sure there were no memories tied to that phrase. Maybe she was going insane in hearing responses from teammates when she so desperately wanted to hear their voices in this blank place.

"Ok, so it that wasn't you? I thought I heard – someone." Shepard scanned the darkness, a feeling of anxiety creeping under her skin. The sensation transferred to the fleet and there was almost an audible 'click' as every Reaper went into full defensive mode. Weapons began warming up, kinetic shields slammed down, and Mass Effect barriers were raised – all because Shepard felt paranoid. Several vessels that had been doing complex calculations were knocked for a loop and they were caught in a dreadnought's Mass Effect barriers and dragged into a slow collision.

Harbinger started a dull monotone chastise, but as he spoke his rumbling tone raised a few notes. "Your fear of the unknown is irrational and it causes great distress to the fleet. The Convergence does not need to acquire your emotional load in this matter – or any matter. All programs run at optimal parameters when emotions are not brought in, there is no place for them. All they bring is pain." It was still a monotone that the Reaper spoke in, but it was now squarely in the_ 'distress'_ category of montone... for Reapers anyway.

"Calm down, squid. I don't know where you learned your 'emo' from, but I certainly didn't teach it to you. And you think YOU have it bad? I was vaporized! For everlasting peace? What kind of peace involves vaporization?" Curls fists balled at Shepard's hips, shoulders set firm as she rounded that logic back on Harbinger.

The Reaper took the rhetorical question in stride. "The Catalyst peace always involves vaporization. Though it is usually vaporizes of all organics, rather than just one."

"Then I guess I'm just lucky." Eyes half narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, Shepard struck by the urge to ask Harbinger again what exactly was the story behind the Catalyst. The Reapers undoubtedly feared the strange energy being, but why? Where did that Catalyst come from? Did the Reapers really create it, only to have it turn around and 'create' them?

And who was poking her?

Shepard shivered as a sensation of touch ghosted over her shoulder. It wasn't more than a tingle but it pulled her from her thoughts immediately. The Reapers were still surrounding her, their pressure was only a light weight as they turned their attention outwards, still suffering from Shepard's anxiety.

Feather light against her ribs now, the touch was too gentle to be one of the synthetics. Shepard shivered in surprise. "Ok... who's doing that? Seriously, fess up. Don't make me start a lesson in honesty, because you will all flip over and have a seizure if I do." There was a __**thinning **__sensation of the air, the pressure letting up for the first time since she had woken up in this darkness.

At the threat of another shared lesson, the Reapers pulled back into the system connection and each began to scrutinize the others to try to find who was causing their code-leader nervous distress. Each ship guarded a portion of Shepard and even the smallest of Oculi had an equal portion of her personality included. Like quantum entanglement, Shepard was the string binding them all together now. Only it was using the remnants of a human mind instead of whatever it was that actually made quantum mechanics work. 'Space Magic', Shepard mentally shrugged at quantum physics.

The thinning-sensation seemed at odds with the constant pressure the Reaper's minds brought. It kept passing by the woman like a breeze from an unseen location. The synthetic ships didn't seem to be able to sense it, so it either was Shepard's own senses acting up or it was some sort of coding that overrode Reaper tech.

_"Shepard, where are you?" _Darkness didn't make a different, Shepard knew that voice. Her heart lunged and a wild spur of whatever qualified as adrenaline struck her.

It was then the teeth of a trap snapped shut on the speaker. Every Reaper activated programming that slammed the darkness shut with a shell of code, enclosing Shepard like a protective phalanx. Programs to hack, destroy, subvert, and infiltrate went off and the Reapers suddenly had a target.

Garrus.

"STOP!" The phalanx of hosted Reapers on the Convergence server were forced to pull up short at the violent command to halt they all received. "Garrus?" Shepard reacted out of habit, trying to put herself between her friends and trouble.

There was nothing there. The area where the pressure thinned was gone. It was silent again, only the dull and constant rumble of Reaper's as they scanned the Convergence made any noise. Like a pack of angry dogs pulling against a leash, the Reapers strained forward to try to examine where the intruder had been. Shepard felt caged, all the Reapers keeping her firmly centered in the middle of the Convergence and each piece of Reaper mind bumped into hers as if to verify she hadn't been whisked away.

"What the hell was that?" Shepard murmured quietly as the din of Reapers began to fade. There was nothing there, and according to their sensors, there never had been. However that didn't change the fact that every vessel in the fleet could confirm hearing the voice in the darkness.

"A memory?" Ceph offered, his rumble the deepest of bass sounds.

Shepard shivered. All the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck had prickled. Whether Garrus had actually managed to get into the Convergence or it was just the exceptionally vivid memory of him, it really didn't matter. Shepard was knocked into her own memories, lost among the cascade of images of a large turian shadow at her back. In this darkness, there was no shadows.

And no Garrus.

The memories were all terrible reminder of what she had lost in order to save everything. Reapers were forced to follow each memory, one after another. Within moments, ever Reaper was knocked offline or into hibernation while the Shepard-Code was awash in memories of just one person.

The Reapers did not like this 'love'. At all.


	9. Make do

__I declare Monday nights to be sleepless nights. Probably because we have a hilarious game session of D&D on Sundays, and I spend the Sunday to Monday transition laughing madly at the chaos... and as a note, skinning a dead hydra to stuff all 6 party mates into the 6 heads... and then claiming to be the great and powerful Hydra God... it may fool idiotic troggs... it DOESN'T fool other humans (or liches). Stupid ideas never work twice... even if your DM just died laughing.__

__PS. Sovereign Glue... oh the shit I cause with that stuff and a bag of holding.__

__Sin of the Fallen____– Stop reading ahead in the cheat guide! I'm working on that part next! Man, your precognition powers are impressive. Or I'm predictable. Either or.__

__Red Lilies____- I'm sorry! I know, a chapter leading up to the previous cliff hanger is a PAIN, Shepard was busy doing stuff while Garrus was not-sleeping. And the Reapers were busy too (complaining mostly). I promise I won't have another lead-in repeat like that again!__

__Ica Rue____– Ceph would probably be the oldest operating Reaper in the fleet. They did take quite a beating and had a few culled by the Victory Fleet. The youngest would be a Reaper constructed from one of the Protheans 'inducted' races. AND FFFFFFFF fruit baskets? *naked panic ensues* WREX~! Do something! *wail*__

__Thank you for your interest and comments. And now, a word from the story.__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Limbo<strong>_

_**Chapter 9**_

_**4/30/12**_

* * *

><p>Starting a morning by getting dragged to the medbay was the definition of a 'bad morning' in Garrus' book. In Shepard's book, a trip to the hospital had been common sometime <em>before<em> lunch but _after_ the massive ensuing gunfights that tended to break out when she took up a mission. Normally, by the time Karin Chakwas would finish her first mug of coffee, the amount of injuries she patched up usually meant she would spike her second mug of coffee with a generous splash of brandy.

At the start of Garrus' shift, Chakwas had already discharged Allers from the makeshift medbay, stating her concussion was healed to the point the reporter could move about safely; she had patched up Cortez and allowed the shuttle pilot to join the duty roster on half-shifts if he didn't overdo it and kept on his crutches, and Joker had received his regular treatment to knit bones. Garrus entered the curtained area to find Kaidan sleeping on an uncomfortable looking medical table and Joker keenly awaiting his arrival.

"Hey, what was that whole scrum just now? EDI said it sounded like you got in a fight with a bee hive." Joker glanced over his shoulder at the other side of his bed, where EDI was sitting next to him sedately.

Garrus blinked owlishly, still not awake enough to comprehend what had happened earlier or to deal with Joker's odd phrases. "Nightmare," was his only explanation, his left hand still numb from the prothean sphere. Chakwas gave the turian a gentle push towards one of the heavy machines and he slid his broken hand under the sensors of device.

"What's Alenko doing in here?" Garrus glanced over at the CO as the machine made several sharp clicks, examining the bone and plates.

Chakwas gave him a disapproving look that normally came from someone meddling in her patient's business, but sighed and relented. "When the Major works a double shift, he's usually prone to migraines. The most effective treatment for them, even in this day and age, is sleep. He took a simple sedative, and should be recovered when he wakes up."

Alenko had a wrinkle in his brow, even in his sleep, as if his dreams were plagued by things unseen.

…__things unseen in the darkness... heavy pressure...__

Garrus shuddered violently, his plates scraping across plates in a rattling noise. The dream had been visually empty, nothing frightening at all. It was the things he didn't see but knew that were there... that was terrifying. It was like being on Palaven again during the initial attack, being on Thessia, being on Earth – his dream was full of Reapers. And Shepard too, or whatever ethereal memory of Shepard without actually seeing her. Being unable to see her or touch her but knowing she was there, it was like being unable to watch her six as she walked right into danger.

"Hey... Garrus?" Joker tried calling his name again, and probably had been for a while now based on the concerned look on his face. EDI's mouth was drawn into a pursed 'O' of confusion, and Chakwas was frowning.

"What?" The dream was dusted away into his mind so he could concentrate.

"You aren't looking so hot." Joker said hesitantly, looking to EDI and then Chakwas for reassurance. Garrus knew Joker wasn't just stating the obvious, the pilot could see that he was being worn down and was trying to get him to notice as well. Plates were losing their high gloss for a dull matte, the blue colony tattoos were unkempt, and there was a slump to his shoulders that suggested defeat as he tried to alleviate the pain in his arm.

The doctor was pulling a latex glove onto her hand which meant one of two things... fingers were going in uncomfortable places, or she was going to come into contact with turian blood.

Garrus honestly prayed it was the latter...

Chakwas removed the bandage on his injured hand, revealing medigel plaster and dried blood caked along the groove of his plates. She carefully probed the area to see if the swelling had gone down enough to apply a modified bone weave onto his buckled plates. "Spending your entire shift in a suit seems to have aggravated your injury. Or maybe it was trying to hold that oversized rifle..."

Chakwas didn't seem to miss anything and Garrus kept a stony face if only to keep plausible _deniabilit_y.

"There isn't much I can do other than have you take some anti-inflammatory treatment and hope the swelling goes down enough tomorrow to apply the weave." Chakwas turned Garrus' hand over with palm facing up, testing if he still had range of motion on his uninjured finger. While stiff and suffering from a radiating pain, Garrus could still curl his second finger enough to give him some degree of usefulness.

"I'll release you to duty if you can promise you will not be carrying that 90 pound _monster_ with... or using any firearms until permitted." The wrinkles around Chakwas eyes deepened as she fixed him with a firm stare.

The _Widow_ was an unforgiving weapon... even when not in combat. During that last push on Earth, he had tried shooting left-handed instead and found his aim suffered greatly. Even using a pistol with his injured hand was beyond him. If he dared to fire the _Widow_ while injured, it would probably shatter the already broken bones.

"I can promise, I won't be carrying a sniper rifle to fix the battery." Garrus lifted his left hand in a turian salute, and this seemed to pacify the doctor as she watched his arm raise in the gesture.

"Lets see your other hand." The doctor ordered swiftly, releasing his injured hand and holding an open palm out to him and waiting for him to comply.

"Why? I only had that one-," Garrus tried to protest.

He really should have remembered you don't protest against Karin Chakwas. "Because you were handling an unidentified prothean mysterious object that did God-knows what, but I could hear it from in here!" There was a look in the doctor's eye that promised there would be no pain killers if he didn't comply.

Garrus reluctantly held out his other hand as well. There was no injury – of course – and aside from feeling a little numb from the jarring vibrations of the sphere, there wasn't anything unusual about it either. Still, the doctor hadn't been on board the Normandy as long as she had without being suspicious of the strange battery of injuries the crew limped back to the ship with.

"Shouldn't you be examining the sphere instead?" Garrus asked.

Chakwas smiled slightly, the slight gesture almost hidden under her completely serious __'I am a professional' __expression. "Would you like me to take it's pulse? I'm a doctor, Garrus, not an anthropologist."

Joker tried to muffle a laugh with a loud cough. Even EDI seemed quite suddenly amused.

Weird humans and their equally as weird humor.

"Ok, I had that coming. I get it. I'll ask Javik about the sphere." Garrus pulled his hand back as the doctor finished her examination. The sphere was currently in the hardsuit pocket. After Chakwas had ended the dog pile and the sphere stopped vibrating and humming, no one had wanted to touch it. Leaving it on the ground wasn't an option though, and Garrus had picked up the metal sphere and jammed it quickly back into the pocket before it could do anything else.

"Javik was cleared to go on a double roster shift, exploring to the south. He wished to see how far it was possible to get on foot in this terrain." EDI spoke quickly, her normal clipped toned unchanged, but it was still evident the AI was expecting Garrus to be angry.

Garrus didn't even know if he had the energy to feel angry at the AI any more. Everything felt... empty. Or the rage moved to somewhere else. Perhaps it was just the strangeness of the dream compacted with waking up to be slammed to the ground by Vega, but Garrus felt … off. It was like trying to remember something before going to bed, only to wake up with the knowledge that you had been __trying__to remember something and with no actual memory of what that could be.

"Thanks... EDI." Garrus said dully, though he did mean it. It saved him time of wandering around the base camp on this spirit-forsaken planet. Instead, he could get back to work on the battery and double check Harmony's progress while he slept.

Earlier, Harmony's quick scan of the sphere revealed only that it was made of kamacite, an iron-nickle alloy found commonly in meteorites. Unfortunately, that was about all the scan revealed. The sphere was solid, with no mechanical parts, and whatever had caused it to be the size of a Mako when Shepard had discovered it and also made it vibrate was a complete mystery. Liara's own little VI drone, Glyph, had taken extreme interest in the sphere, and followed Garrus like a balloon on a string until he had shooed it away. Wherever Liara was, she probably wasn't aware she was missing her little glowing helper bot.

And speaking of..., "Wait... where is Liara?" Garrus hesitated, the privacy curtain surrounding the medbay lifted back by his wrist.

"She's off doing her favorite activity... lurking. And stalking. Javik has a little blue shadow now." Joker spoke with a feigned boredom, but before he had even fully explained it had transformed into an excited grin. Across the room, Kaidan began to wake up, the sedatives long since worn off and the migraine appeared to be gone. Chakwas quickly made her way over to check over the CO before she could release him from medbay.

EDI clarified immediately. "Doctor T'soni is traveling with Javik to set up a way-point communicator for surface wide comm signals. Any stalking of the prothean that she does is completely coincidental." This last bit was mostly addressed to Joker.

The pilot gave EDI a smug look, "It's might be a coincidence when our little book-worm asari decides to go on a hike normally, but when she's with Javik... oo-oh, you can __smell __the ulterior motives."

The AI gave Joker a flat look. "What you are smelling is likely prothean hormones."

Garrus had carefully donned a look of horror at that last part.

Joker quickly made sure that Dr. Chakwas was out of hearing range before whisper quickly back, "If Mordin were here, he'd tell Liara the dangers of-,"

And that was when Garrus held up his hand to stop Joker. "Do you WANT me to never be able to talk to Liara without being morbidly curious or awkward ever again?"

"Vega and I have a pool going. We're betting when Javik finally snaps and drags Liara into the bushes somewhere." Joker was leering, both hands clapped together in what probably would have looked diabolical if he wasn't sporting almost a weeks worth of stubble and was now far too beardy to pull off a slick villain.

Garrus interrupted with a flat stare at the AI, "EDI, just how must stress is Joker under?"

"ALL OF IT." The pilot said, his voice sudden hoarse and pitched quiet a bit lower.

"He's getting better." EDI answered, her voice still smoothed and melodic. The synthetic pat the top of his leg.

"Says you." Joker shivered, casting a glance over at Chakwas before he went to bat away EDI's hand. However he never got that far, and instead curled his fingers around her wrist. The doctor was almost never out of the medlab, and Joker was forbidden to leave with his spine fractures still recovering. That was all Garrus needed to understand.

Mostly he understood humans were horny little bastards who could give krogan a run for their credits. But he, above the rest of the crew, knew what it was like to want to blow off steam.

Kaidan was now sitting on the medical table, his eyes a bit puffy from sleep but otherwise he seemed fine. The proxy-Commander raised a hand in greeting towards Garrus, a little muddled still but the doctor seemed pleased with his results after a good night's sleep.

"Dr Chakwas." Garrus raised his voice, calling out to her. "If you have some time to spare, mind if we hold an intervention of sorts for Tali? She was a mess the other day, and despite what Harmony says... I'd like a second opinion. One with a medical degree and a treatment plan preferably."

The doctor had found her mobile medical kit even before Garrus had finished speaking. Either the doctor had been looking for an excuse to examine quarian and her new geth counterpart, or more likely the older human could almost sense the frustration in the room from Joker. "I'm ready when you are. Joker... I fully expect you to be in medbay when I get back." She directed a scolding look towards the pilot.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, you two." Garrus' tones were low and harmonic, the conspiratorial turian message probably went unheeded but the implications didn't.

Both pilot and AI wore matching expressions of shock. EDI recovered first, a slight smile on her synthetic lips as she leaned against Joker, causing him to startle from his shock.

"Well that doesn't narrow much down, now does it?" Alenko muttered in tow, groggy and stumbling, yet surprisingly coherent to the situation. Garrus found he was surprised that Alenko was aware of the tension between pilot and AI.

The biotic leaned slightly, his voice a whisper. "I was awake for a lot longer than you probably thought. Playing dead... saves me the __headache __of waking up." There was only the briefest of smiles that flitted across the Major's face before he quickly donned the mask of groggy and incoherent.

"You, sir, are a tactical genius."

* * *

><p>Tali had been indignant at the request to examine her, but relented in the end. The engineer wasn't running a fever, but she still was congested and there was a deep rattle in her chest that was clearing up. Chakwas had put on a full motherly rage of <em><em>'you should have known better' <em>_and turned it on Harmony, of all things.

The geth was the very model of repentant. However even feeling regret at their decision, Harmony still defended their choice. "Normandy is in a state of decline. If repairs are not completed and the core brought back to operation quickly, it is possible we will not have the ability to bring the vessel into space-worthy status again."

Tali nodded quietly at this, having taken one of Chakwas' tirades already.

Harmony's warning set Garrus into a state of alarm. Kaidan seemed to have dropped the charade of exhaustion and was suddenly wide awake and he hissed, "Wait... as in if we don't fix the ship __now__, we will never leave?"

The geth hesitated. Geth do not 'candy-coat' their answers, but she seemed to not want to give bad news. So when Harmony answered "Yes," Garrus felt the final pangs of anxiety set in. "The battery cannot sustain much more strain, and if the ship cools off before patching the breaches then condensation damage will destroy the equipment."

Making a direct path for his helmet to suit up, Garrus could only peripherally hear Alenko asking Chakwas to make a round and check if _all _crew were in any sort of condition to pull double shifts. Even the non-engineering crew were now being gang-pressed into double shifts, anything that could be done to take the pressure off the overworking Tantalus core was going to be attempted.

By the time the last latch was closed on his hardsuit, the entire clearing was buzzing with motion. Cortez was hobbling around with his leg in some sort of plastic brace as he and some of the other crew set mass effect field jacks on the ground to lift the Normandy up. The ship's belly was hidden among rubble and pulverized rocks, there was no way to fix the hanger bay without lifting the ship first.

"Heads up, Vakarian! In ten, the ship is going to start floating. Might be a little turbulence. Try not to be near anything that looks unstable." Steve waved as Garrus climbed the gangplank.

Harmony had taken over Chiktikka's shell again and purred pasted Garrus. "That would be the entire ship." The geth remarked.

"Wise ass, geth." Cortez chuckled, lowering himself to one knee to wrestle with the ME jack.

"I __wonder __where she gets it." Garrus had a feeling that Harmony was emulating a lot more than just Tali's gender.

The inside of the ship was still a steam room, and Kaidan's makeshift venting system seemed to still be functioning but couldn't even make a dent in the temperature. "Harmony, how much progress did you make on the battery?"

The drone rolled sideways to look up at him. "All holes have been patched. All severed conduits redone. _Warning: _Contents of battery core low on liquid lithium and element zero. _Warning:_ battery power draw insufficient. __**Danger: **__Battery reaching peak temperature levels." Harmony synced to the system remotely and began firing off the system errors.

Two 'warning' errors and a 'danger'? … that was a feat in itself... and not a good one.

Garrus grit his teeth, mandibles flat against his jaw. "Tell me at least something is still in the green."

There was a slightly pause again from the geth. "System calibrations within acceptable parameters."

"Well. There is that." Garrus pushed past a tangle of cords and descended the ladder quickly to the crew deck. "Thank you, Harmony."

"You are welcome, Vakarian-Officer. This unit is going to monitor the drive core until Creator-Zorah arrives." The little combat drone, made for putting rockets into reapers troops, had a small magnetic tool kit fused to it's shell and had been converted from combat to repairs.

Harmony seemed to be comfortable stepping from Tali's suit to the robot shell now. For the first time, Chiktikka wasn't triggering doors to open and subsequently getting jammed in the mechanism, dumping an entire load of live rockets on the floor for no apparent reason, or making that __Spirits-damned clicking noise __– it was a vast improvement to have a geth inside the drone.

A little curious on how the combat drone got up and down the steep ladder, Garrus paused to watch the geth powered-drone go. Harmony simply drove the drone over the lip of the elevator and vanished. The __**thud **__that sounded at the bottom of the elevator shaft told Garrus that Harmony had overshot her destination by one floor.

"You ok down there?" Garrus leaned over the lip of the elevator shaft, hoping the geth was still tuned into his suits comm signals.

"This unit regrets the lack of hands." Harmony sounded a few notes off-pitch. "And steering. Functionality is still optimal, returning to duty." There was the high hum of the drone's mass effect fields as it bobbled out of the elevator and back into the engineering level.

The Normandy had not much improved its current situation over the night. A heat haze caused the ground to appear wobbly and uneven, and the battery housing was full of the same misty haze as the engineering floor. The heat was actually increasing in temperature, probably due to the heat dispersal system not getting enough power to function.

Garrus' mandibles fluttered a few times, the human equivalent of grinding teeth, and he quickly set about pulling a rather limited supply of the battery's reserve fluid from the under-deck storage. There would not be enough to completely refill the battery, not by a longshot. Garrus dumped all the remaining lithium and eezo slurry into the emergency hatch.

The computer gave a slightly blip. The orange warning alerts for low fluid were still firmly in place, adding a metaphorical drop in the ocean to the contents of the battery. However it did increase the output by 2%. Raising a hand to his helmet and flipping on his omni-tool, Garrus reviewed yesterday's request on what Kaidan needed the battery output to be to send a message back to Earth.

Taking a sharp hiss of air, Garrus winced at the glowing '43%' that the omni-tool illuminated. That...well, crap. Currently, battery output was at 6%, with most of that being eaten by the overheating drive core. It was going to take some kind of voodoo magic to squeeze that kind of power from the battery.

Normandy suddenly groaned, the ship listing at an angle. There was the sound of durasteel squealing in protest and the vessel began to tip sideways. Objects seemed to decide gravity could go fuck off and started indiscriminately floating or slamming against the wall as the weak mass effect fields tried to kick in. Garrus stumbled, slamming into the wall and reflexively reaching up to grasp one of the conduits that traversed the ceiling. Then the ship lurched in the opposite direction, trying to compensate for the sideways angle.

Activating his comm, Garrus cried out, "Cortez, this is not a LITTLE turbulence! It's like being in that damned Mako again! Level it out!" Normandy shuddered, the tilt becoming more extreme as the ME jacks overcompensated on the left side.

There was only swearing in response over the comm, but the ship slowly began to correct. By the time the heavy vibrations had stopped and Normandy was still, the whole ship now listed backwards at a slight angle so that a dropped object would roll to the rear of the battery. In fact, most of the tools that hadn't made it back into the toolkit were now flat against the door threatening to escape the moment it opened.

Whoever was on the opposite side of that door was going to be witness to the great wrench migration when they opened it up.

"What's the damage like out there, Cortez?" Garrus stooped to pick up the fallen tools.

Static for a few seconds, like an angry ocean. "Well... Joker is having some kind of fit when he saw it."

Garrus found a box of thermal clips tumbled into the corner with his magnetic hex set. Huh... he'd been looking for those at one point. "That doesn't mean much. Joker went into a fit when Grunt cracked the window in the cargo bay. Is he coherent? If he's just making __sounds__rather than words..."

"Seems like mostly swearing." Cortez had to fairly yell over what was probably Joker's profanity laced shock. "I didn't know Joker could swear in quarian."

"Not too bad then if all we've got is swearing. Pulled a miracle from somewhere, I guess." Garrus found a piece of his old armor, the one that had taken missile damage back on Omega. He stared at it hawkishly, wondering when it had splintered off from the rest of his gear.

There was static over the comm, signaling Steve was holding the line open for some reason. "Message from Joker. He says... and I quote.._. ___'Lacking the pole, it appears Garrus now stores miracles up his ass as well. Next galactic threat, we're launching him as an advance strike team.'__End quote." Cortez only barely managed to say all that without bursting out laughing.

"Wise ass." Garrus grumbled.

Something clinked against the ground and the rolled past his toes. Looking down quickly, there sat that strange silvery prothean sphere. Garrus' hand jerked back, reaching to his pocket. During the jarring the Normandy had received, the storage pocket had snapped open and the sphere escaped.

A high pitched tone resonated from the sphere, much like a tuning fork after striking a surface. The silvery object came to a halt along the door and the high frequency sound cut off.

"I'm not picking you up." Garrus told the sphere.

Not surprisingly, the sphere said nothing.

"I'm serious. I'm leaving you there. Whoever opens the door can deal with you."

For a moment, Garrus felt if the sphere __could __talk, it would tell him conversing with shapes was generally a sign of mental instability. There was a defiant moment in which he could picture himself throwing it across the room, and then Garrus felt his resolve crumble and surrender set in. It was just a sphere. Shepard's random trinket, a paperweight for the past year and a half. It didn't cause his nightmare... truthfully he had been having enough of those on his own. And turians didn't have the touch-memory ability, so whatever it did beside vibrate and hum would have no effect on him.

"I have no clue what I'm doing in here. Spirits... we could all use a little help right now." Reaching down, Garrus plucked the sphere off the floor and rolled it with his thumb. Just a sphere.

Then, quite suddenly, Garrus felt an expected __**wave **__of emotion. _**Triumph, relief, elation**_, and to top it all off __he had a plan now. __It was possible to create more of the eezo-lithium slurry for the battery. It was possible to boost power to the venting system using a makeshift solar grid and leave the battery for the drive core and quantum comm system. Each of these ideas weren't just sudden inspiration, it was a fully designed blueprint to show step-by-step how to repair this mess.

A gasp caught in his throat and came out as a choke. "What the... hell was that?" He blinked, and then blinked again as if clearing cobwebs of sleep from his eyes.

The sphere didn't answer. But the longer Garrus held it in his palm, the more this strange..._**pressure **_seemed to be building.

* * *

><p>The only disturbance Garrus had during his sixteen hour double shift was Alenko coming in halfway through and insisting he take a break. Failing to convince him, the biotic <em><em>dragged <em>_him out of the battery in an aura of blue energy. There was simply no arguing with biotics... so he had been forced to relent and took an hour break to eat and escape from his sweltering suit. The second an hour had elapsed, he was back in the suit and lodged firmly in the battery again, much to Alenko's dismay. Harmony had set up a link between Garrus and Tali, allowing them to keep track of their progress.

"Garrus... what kind of turian savant are you? Output is at 23%, and I saw that mess we're calling a battery." Tali voice came over the comm, causing Garrus to almost lose his grip on the magnetic screwdriver.

"Only at 23?" Garrus tried to flip his omni-tool on to review the calibrations, but he was coated with a slick layer of powered lithium and element zero. There was a liquifying mess of powdered metals and volatile acid in a crucible in front of him, a bubble of a mass effect field keeping the caustic liquid from splattering as it homogenized together.

In his right hand, the sphere hummed on occasion but remained still as he worked. When he needed both hands to work, he found he would put the sphere on the floor and curl his foot over it, pinning it down rather than returning it to his pocket. The belief that it was some sort of 'inspiration sphere' or somehow was transferring solutions to fixing the battery had worked itself into his head and now Garrus was loathe to put it down at all. His eyepiece visor was quickly in peril of being replaced as his favorite belonging with this silvery sphere.

"'Only'? Overachieving turian-," Tali lapsed into a few choice quarian curses, "Not that I'm __not __happy we're working through this, but you are making me look bad by comparison." There was more of a tease than fury behind Tali's words.

Passing his omni-tool over the crucible of liquid metal, Garrus paused only long enough to check the composite was high enough yield to match the battery's current quality. "Then I apologize in advance." Garrus set a conduit to drain from the crucible into the battery's tanks and flipped on the pump.

"For what?" Tali asked, suspicious.

"For raising the bar." Garrus felt his mandibles widen in a grin as he watched the flickering numbers of the power output suddenly raise.

Tali noticed the change too over her linked system. "What on – but that's- Keelah! Garrus, what did you do?" The power output was now hovering around 40%.

It still wasn't enough.

Slumping against the wall, the little silvery sphere hummed in a high frequency in his gloved hand. He was completely out of ideas again. Within the double shift had spent down here, Garrus had even thought to check the grounding system and found it was sucking power from the batteries in an superfluous attempt to prevent any shorts. Any repairs the Normandy needed now for the battery simply couldn't be done while crashed on this planet with the routine tools he had. Normandy needed a full overhaul, not a patch job. All he could do at this point was toy with the calibrations and perhaps coax 1% at best out of the systems. They still didn't have the power output to send a message back to Earth.

There was a long pause over the comm, Tali seeming to catch on to Garrus' sudden silence. "Well... ok, you've raised the bar pretty high. But I keep a few things held back for emergencies too." The little quarian said softly. The console gave a chirp and his omni-tool linked with Tali's beeped as well.

44% power output. The battery was just 2% over the required output needed to send a message to Earth now. "What did __you __do?" Garrus found his voice, the brittle feeling of despair shattering immediately.

"I cut some subroutines that EDI had automated. It means us engineers are going to have to get used to manually doing calibrations everyday and by hand again. The __old fashioned way__, as you prefer it. But it will save us some power." Tali's voice was fatigued, the congestion from the simulated bacteria exposure still plugging her sinuses and giving her a miserable nasally sound. But there was still the tone of pride in her voice.

"Old fashioned way?" Garrus rumbled in amusement.

"Just like the old times, yes? With all the times you've said that, I feel like I should apply for senior turian hierarchy rites for you. At the very least, you'd could tell those stories about the Mako climbing through five feet of snow... uphill... both ways... as we went to stop Saren."

"It was only uphill both ways because Shepard thought it was fun to drive off cliffs." Garrus recalled, a wistful double tone to his voice.

At the mention of Shepard, the comm fell silent. Tali was afraid of treading on toes with the subject, and it was still a taboo subject.

Schrodginer's cat. Until the the box was opened and the deadly outcome revealed, the cat was both alive and dead. But according to humans cats have nine lives... and humans had reincarnation... Garrus didn't quite understand what it meant, but it sounded like they were one of the most hopeful races in the galaxy.

"Garrus... I'm going to end my shift. You too, right?" The quarians voice was unsure, tentative.

"Yeah. Soon. Just have to clean up. Can't violate the Vakarian-Zorah treaty, or you might revoke my beachfront property rights." Garrus looked down at the silvery orb in his hand. There was a soft laugh over the comm, and then it clicked off as Tali left he station.

The sphere rumbled in his hand. The glove absorbed most of the vibrations, but his fingers very suddenly went numb. __**Relief.**__It was so thick it was like a soporific. Garrus sagged against the wall almost numb entirely with relief. His forearms ached and there was a terrible strain on his injured hand, the glove felt uncomfortably tight around swollen plates.

The comm signal cut as Tali began clean up at her workstation, ready to end the long shift. "Almost there... Shepard." Garrus murmured, eyes heavy and bleary. Lifting the sphere, he could see his helmet reflected in the glossy surface, reversed and upside down. "I hope you are watching. Wherever you are."

__**Pressure**___**.**_

The sphere trembled from Garrus' fingers as he jerked back in alarm, bouncing off his knee and rolling into the corner.

"No! Don't do that. Go back to humming and doing odd prothean things.. but don't … __don't do ____**that**____.___" _Garrus' voice was unsteady, his mind already revolted at the memory of the nightmare again. Pressure – whatever it was, seemed to represent Reapers in that dream.

The sphere was silent and still.

"Vakarian-Officer." Harmony popped into his comm signal, the geth's synthetic voice pitched at a questioning tone. "Your heart rate has accelerated and your hardsuit is detecting an adrenaline spike... are you functional?"

"I'm fine. Just tired." Garrus hesitated, his visor flicking over the sphere and a stream of figures feeding into his sensors. Kamacite sphere of perfect dimensions, no power source and no moving parts, and it was humming again. "I think this thing is taunting me."

There was an incoming transmission, and based on the frequency it was planet-wide. Liara got her comm-system in place, it seemed. "All Normandy crew, sending comm back to Earth and making an attempt to hail any nearby craft within within ten. Standby for response."

__'Standby for response.___' _If Shepard was out there... Spirits... let her respond.

Garrus was out of the battery even before the prothean sphere stopped rocking gently on the ground. Alone in the dark and caustic smelling forward battery of the ship, the orb seemed only to be just an orb, but that didn't make Garrus any less wary of it.


	10. Making Collect Calls

_Oh crap! I have got to pack! Kit is the laziest Kit. I have 2 weeks to finish packing and be moved in before a wedding. My attention span just got shot repeatedly – I think I wrote this chapter at least 3 times, tearing it apart each time. I THOUGHT I knew the direction I was taking this story. I apparently have lied. My muse is a small child with ADD who is now running naked down the halls._

_GET BACK HERE YOU TERRIBLE MUSE! Get back here and inspire me! … and put on some pants!_

_There is likely to be an off-shoot to this chapter, entitled 'Meanwhile', that is to the tune of 'what is going on back at Earth...'. Because my attention span isn't short enough as it is._

* * *

><p><strong>Limbo<strong>

**Chapter 10 – Making Collect Calls**

**5/7/12**

* * *

><p>Shepard was tucked in Harbinger's data core, lost in her memories and emotions. Her XR had quickly pulled the Commander into his systems and erected barriers and firewalls in the same way a soldier throws himself on top of a grenade to protect the rest of his platoon, shielding the other Reapers from an onslaught of emotions. The gesture was... surprisingly touching...considering his dislike for other Reapers.<p>

However the result was Harbinger was promptly struck off-line by the overwhelming sensations of loss, regret, loneliness and longing that the strange incident with Garrus' voice had caused. The human was in no condition to try to help control it either, each memory cascaded into another and all left her in a state of ennui. Regret laced every memory: __'I wish I had stopped that gunship back on Omega', 'I wish I had the time to take a vacation somewhere with Garrus' … 'I wish I had told him sooner...'__

Harbinger was almost addled by the time Shepard drew herself back to the present and exchanged emotion for a numb sensation of logic. The human was just a tiny bit of code in a sea of Reapers... no physical body and no connection to any electronics other than Reaper tech. She was almost convinced it had been her own mind twisting and playing tricks on her. It wasn't like Garrus could have just picked up a phone and called her. But... she had __heard__his voice and __felt __the pass of talons over her shoulder.

"Shepard." Harbinger's toneless rumble caused the air to vibrate.

The woman blinked, tearing herself out of her thoughts. "Harbinger." Her mind had been wandering ever since the strange event occurred. The Reaper got a brief glimpse as a sense of nostalgia hit her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Recalling memory 29 file: Normandy SR-1, 52. <strong>_

Wrex had been leaning against the cargo hold wall, a scowl on his face as Garrus and Ashley were trying to hammer a dent out of the Mako. Apparently, the tank did NOT take a Thresher Maw to the hood as well as it mowed over geth. The resulting damage had bounced Wrex around inside the crew hold and added several new dents to the inside of the vehicle as well. Krogan did __not like __being pinballed around in a tin can.

Shepard had exited the elevator, a handful of ammo mods and an armload of tagged armor attachments to stow in the gear lockers. Wrex, ever a permanent fixture of __pissy,__watched with a doleful glare as the human walked by.

"Wrex." Shepard nodded to him as she passed.

The krogan hesitated, then tipped his crest towards her. "Shepard." He rumbled, some of the fury fading into a grudging respect. Witnessing the human snipe a oblivious merc at 100 yards with a freaking pistol was something you couldn't help but respect... and pray it never gets aimed at you.

With no other words, Shepard pulled open Liara's locker and attached a few mods to her gear. Then she repeated the attachments to Kaidan's gear as well, adjusting the biotic gear mods and amps. There was a few moments of juggling gear around before the Commander scowled at the lockers. Then pulling an amp out of one of them, she turned and faced the krogan.

"Wrex." There was a calculating look to the human's green eyes. She held out the new amp to Wrex, a model exactly the same as her own with small modifications to allow for krogan use. A small five finger hand dumped in into his wide three fingered palm. Her tone had said __'Looks like you haven't upgraded in a while. Take this.'__

"Shepard." If the disgust in his voice was a barrier for biotics, Wrex probably would have been untouchable. __'I don't need a new amp, the old one still worked just fine!'__

Shepard cut him off before he even had a chance to start though. "Wrex." The voice held a warning to it. __'Accept it, you fucking stubborn desert gecko!'__

There was a sigh, not quite of defeat but certainly of resignation. "Shepard." It held the tone of understanding. When a tiny, squishy human vanguard does almost double the damage as a krogan warlord... perhaps it was time to start upgrading gear. Wrex closed his hand around the amp.

Seeing that, Jane had nodded, slammed a set of incendiary ammo into her own shotgun, closed the lockers, and left the cargo bay. Not a single word spoken to anyone else.

As she entered the elevator, she heard Ashley whisper to Garrus, "What the hell was that? Did they just have an entire conversation... just by saying each others names?" The woman asked, confused.

"I'm not sure... I don't have my translator VI calibrated to 'extreme badass'." Garrus risked a glance at Wrex.

The krogan was grinning at them, his former bad mood dissolved into an air of smugness. "A real warlord says more with just one word than a diplomat says in their entire vocabulary."

"I've heard that before... but I generally thought that meant they actually did use MORE than just that one word." Ashley said, sarcasm on full blast.

Wrex barked with laughter as the elevator doors had closed on Shepard, the woman smiling in amusement at the team.

* * *

><p>Harbinger jerked against the connection with Shepard, recovering from the memory like a sleeper waking from a dream. The strongest emotion in that memory had been <em><em><strong>camaraderie<strong>__, and unlikely friendship with what should have been a hostile force. The memory's trigger had been the same laconic way Harbinger said her name, and her own lazy reply.

Skimming surface thoughts, Harbinger picked up on amusement from the woman. "Shepard." Her amusement spiked at the similarity to the memory again, and Harbinger countered back with a jab of irritation. "Your presence is required in the Convergence. They request you 'keep your feelings to yourself' though."

"God, I really flipped out there... hear some kind of – of 'thing' and I lose it. And what was __that __anyway?" Shepard pressed a palm into her forehead, feeling the heavy pressure of Harbinger's mind looming behind her.

Harbinger immediately jerked back, the pressure no longer so strong. He was __trying __to hide something from her, because his reaction was to immediately present a wave of information to keep her from searching his surface thoughts. "Connection was made." Harbinger said as a means answer her question while not really answering anything.

"With... what exactly?" Shepard asked.

"... sources," was the evasive answer.

Fucking Reapers.

"I'm going to drag the answer from you sooner or later, Harbinger. I can either do it the painless way, or with a lot of hugs and sobbing and cries of 'you are my best friend'... your choice." A smirk curled Shepard's lips, and Harbinger retaliated by shrinking away further.

That had been the point the strange __**thinning**____sensation struck again.

__'Spirits... we could all use a little help right now.'__

Shepard went rigid, her heart now somewhere in the vicinity of her throat as she whirled around. Garrus' voice, again right behind her... and again there was nothing there. Outside of Harbinger's firewalls, the entire Reaper Convergence continued their machinations, mining ores, retrofitting ships, gathering the fleets. None of them seemed to have heard Garrus' voice again.

However, Harbinger certainly noticed. There was an immediate transfer of massive amounts of data, information on the Normandy, calculations to figure titration of acids, and information on power cells, ... all of it just... vanishing, fed out of Harbinger's system.

And then the thinning sensation was gone.

"G-... Garrus?" Jane could not keep the strain out of her voice and it fractured into a whisper. But there was no reply.

Shepard's (virtual) heart was still slamming against her ribs in the sort of way it always did when she still had a body. Everything appeared to be 'back to normal' (or as normal as it got being a Reaper's 'Black Box' system), but Harbinger's firewalls remained up, leaving Shepard's whirling emotions isolated in the XR's systems instead of wreaking havoc with the rest of the fleet.

"What... Harbinger... what did you do?" Shepard was not sure if she was referring to the thinning sensation, or the strange transfer of information that seemed to banish it.

The Reaper was suffering a series of rolling errors - one after another - from Shepard's outburst and it took a minute before the synthetic managed to reboot into a coherent state. Harbinger shuddered, limbs twisting as it came back on-line "I have followed your command. Aid was rendered."

Green eyes flashed in the darkness. "That isn't what I meant. What did you __do __with Garrus?" It wasn't a question. It was now a threat.

Under a threat from Commander Shepard, only the foolish or suicidal don't flinch. Harbinger was neither. The answer was wary but unyielding. "Nothing. Turian species in Normandy's command requested aid, and aid was rendered. Data packets were sent through the connection to help in the repairs of the Normandy. Upon receiving data, turian severed the connection on his end." Harbinger said, his voice always the dull tone as ever.

There was a pause from the XR as it considered something. "Fruit Basket Incident detected. Reaper presence is discomforting to organics. Organic-Garrus terminated the connection to initiate naked panic."

Bewilderment decked Shepard right in the face. "Did you just... it..." Dumbfounded, she shook her head as her red hair bobbed. "Please don't call it a naked panic or a Fruit Basket Incident. That was just for Blinky's benefit and you know it."

Harbinger rumbled in accord.

In the dark and silence, Shepard could feel Harbinger's presence at her shoulder, looming and watchful. "So... he panicked?" There was a dull stinging sensation in her chest. Another reminder she wasn't human anymore, or even organic.

The pressure of Harbinger's programs lessened. In the place of the heavy pressure, there was a void of anything except the Reaper's voice. "No. It was surprise. Not panic." The Reaper admit. The lack of the normal haze of force was soothing, like the eye of a storm.

"Any clue how he did it? Managed to connect to the Convergence, I mean."

"I would theorize 'by accident'."

"Yeah, sounds about right." Shepard smiled remorsefully. "Which means... he could be calling back later, once he's convinced we don't come bearing Fruit Baskets."

A rumble of agreement from Harbinger and the pressure returned in full force. "Shepard. Your presence is needed in the Convergence."

"No rest for the wicked." She said, wondering if it was possible to feel exhausted as a program. "That goes double for all of you," saying this, Shepard emerged through Harbinger's barriers back into the central Convergence.

Ceph had continued to gather data and immediately turned his giant red eye inwards as Shepard loaded back into the database. There was a rumble of greeting and the faintest sensation of __**delight **__admit the heavy pressure as Reaper code moved to integrate with Shepard. It lasted only a single second before the delicate emotion was lost amid the suffocating pressure the elder synthetic radiated.

"Give me the sit-rep, Ceph." Shepard could feel her XR circling her program from afar and the constant stream of data Harbinger sent back. Ceph's own stream of data wasn't nearly as powerful, more like a slow trickle... comparing a dial-up modem to wifi streaming. Outdated and almost obsolete by comparison, Ceph still had more than enough power to rival any human built system.

Data poured into to Shepard's mind. Reaper fleets had begun their endeavor to strip mine all minerals out of unoccupied planets to gather materials to create the new relay pairs. However a large portion of whatever was dug up was actually funneled back in to adjustment the Reapers. With small Oculi ships now zipping about the galaxy gathering data and acting as patrol, they needed to move fast and unseen. Each Oculi was begin retrofitted with heat sink systems, like a small scale model of what the Normandy had. The larger Reapers would simply have to make do lurking and running, but if the patrol ships did their job, they wouldn't have to do more than slowly move out of an area to avoid detection.

__**Total time until Oculi retrofit was complete:**____ … 20% done already, total project completion 24 hours.__

__**Total time until each estimated mass relay pair was completed: **____… data not found.__

"Harbinger... you BETTER not be moving data again." Shepard growled, searching for the estimated projects results.

The 'Executive Reaper' continued with a general aura of __**offense**__, recovering the data from an archived pile. "Shepard-code's search methods are not optimal."

"There is method to my madness... and so help me I'll drive you crazy until you can see it too." In a mood, Shepard arranged the data back where she wanted it.

__**Total time until each estimated mass relay pair was completed**____... pre-construction process 10% done. ____**Time estimate until completion**____... 5 years.__

Ceph updated the time estimate from 5 years to 102 years... then a few seconds later to 'yesterday'. Finally the Reaper gave up and changed the information to 'indeterminate'.

Shepard lifted an eyebrow, a smile twisting on her lips. "Ceph?"

"Vectors continuously changing, outgoing repair units compared to in stock materials needed... accurate estimates to be provided once retrofitting is complete." Ceph said, accompanying his deep rumble with a powerful wave of pressure as if to add, __'It'll be done when it's done! Learn some patience. In my day we had to torrent that crap, and it took all week!'__

Chuckling, Shepard returned to sifting through data. She found a change in the system that hadn't been there before her sudden break down though. "Harbinger... did you do this?" Touching the updated programming, she found the command gave the order for all Reapers to lock down their weapons unless under the instruction of Shepard-code's command or the XR. If under attack by organic vessels, the first line of defense was retreat, and failing that it was to only disable the attacking ships long enough to escape. Casualties would not be acceptable.

The Second-in-Command Reaper squirmed under her attention. "Yes." He finally admitted. "Reapers are prone to launching missiles at each other before voluntarily repairing another unit."

Shepard glanced over a few flashing requests to 'fire some guns!' that were pending. "Yes... I can see that. You guys aren't mature enough to handle missiles... I can see __one __Oculi in particular keeps requesting his missile privileges back."

Blinky had taken offense at the lock-down of all weapons, and every five minutes kept pinging the Convergence to 'parole my weapons privileges'. Shepard did have to admit, he had a quad for being such a tiny synthetic.

With all weapons locked down, and a new protocol in place, even if Shepard wasn't fast enough to stop any attack on organics, the new sub-routine made it impossible. "Harbinger... thanks..." And she really meant it. The anger dissipated.

Harbinger only became more uncomfortable now.

"Ah, that's right. You prefer it when I yell." Shepard shook her head, rueful. Then the woman frowned and a line wrinkled between her eyes as she received a ping message. "BLINKY! I see what you are doing there! All requests to fire lasers are to be routed through Harbinger or myself... don't you __dare__rewrite that directory."

It was like trying to herd children. Giant, metal, homicidal children. _(___Shepard-code:/direct command/designation icon Blinky: Blinky you are now grounded and all flight permissions revoked... return back to a dreadnought for retrofitting!___)_ The Reapers put up no resistance to this lock down of their weapons, but there was a general aura of displeasure at the command.

"Shepard." A sharp Reaper voice spoke in the darkness, Roanoke, the comm system Reaper intruded into the central Convergence with a sense of urgency. Shepard had fallen into the habit of naming Reapers in the same style as Alliance ships, starting with the names Atlantis, El Dorado, Shangri-La, Pompeii, and Roanoke. The only difference between current Alliance naming system and her's was that she named all the dreadnoughts after cities either mythical or long since gone. Waving at Roanoke to continue, Shepard continued to overse the retrofit progress.

"Long range signal detected," The Reaper informed her.

That had completely destroyed any interest she had in the retrofit now. "We're being messaged?" Shepard jerked up, her core suddenly swirling with alarm and excitement.

"No. Detecting long range comm signal to Earth, message intercepted. Signal being patched into network." The Comm Reaper connected the line directly into the database. The airwaves, comm bouys and mobile networks had seen minimal use since Shepard had been mashed into the Convergence. Curiosity bid her to listen.

Her curiosity also spread throughout the entire fleet. Every ship now listened in.

* * *

><p>The crew of the Normandy had either roused themselves from sleep or taken a break from their active duty to watch if the outgoing comm message reached anyone. The crowd was restless, an aura of anxiety had it's grasp on them all. The entire crew, minus a very skeleton staff on urgent repairs had gathered in what was now the impromptu center commons area. While Traynor set the quantum communicator message out, Garrus went to go find Javik and ask him about the –<p>

– the sphere he had left inside the ship... well dammit. Suiting back up and finding the prothean sphere when the comm might go live at any moment didn't sound so promising. There was no way he was missing this. Garrus resolved to ask Javik about it later but he set about looking for the prothean anyway. Liara was bound to be near him and Garrus had always felt protective over the asari who had been so timid and awkward on board the first Normandy.

Joker's running bet on the __when __the two of them were going to shack up might have had something to do with it.

Reaching the commons area, Garrus balked at the sight of Javik and performed a double take when Liara sat up straight so he could see her. The prothean was smeared with mud, his red armor almost burgundy with the dark stains. At least one of his four eyes was swollen nearly shut, and tiny scratches marred that side of his face. Liara wasn't in much better shape. Rather than being caked with mud, she was dusted with dirt and long grimy handprints on the thighs of her white body armor seemed to be the result of wiping her hands clean on her clothes.

...Except Liara didn't have long, three-fingered hands, judging by the prints on her clothing.

__'No, no killing teammates, even if they probably deserve it. Shepard would never forgive me if I went down as the person who finished off the prothean race.'__Fists balled tightly and jaw locked, Garrus tried to put on a normal expression as he approached. __'Maybe they are just accidental handprints. Yep. Totally on accident. Social faux paux or something... Spirits, I'm in denial.'__

"So... good trip?" Garrus asked, hoping he wasn't going to have to go strangle a prothean.

Liara sighed, rubbing at her scalp. "Well... there was one landslide, which dumped all our gear into what ended up being a muddy sink hole. It rained down there... and I can see you didn't so much as get a cloud over here, just ten miles away. We discovered a hostile form of ant-like insect, it declared war on the comm system wires and had to be destroyed. Oh yes, and Javik triggered another landslide... this one buried him __and__our gear." Liara's voice rose in pitch until she was probably a few minutes from a nervous breakdown herself.

Javik didn't so much as glare at this outburst. He just sat calmly, watching Garrus with his gold eyes. It was odd to see the prothean so... passive (if radiating a general aura of fury could be 'passive' in his case).

Logic decided to throw Garrus a bone and he quickly realized the muddy hand prints on Liara was probably just because they kept digging their equipment out of soft earth? And the muddy armor was due to being swept into another landslide, most likely. The tension in Garrus' shoulders relaxed a bit, his mandibles loosening to a more social position.

With the threat of punching a lecherous prothean over, Garrus resorted to teasing Liara. "So... I'll take it you didn't bring me anything?" Garrus reached up to dust the side of his gloved hand against Liara's head, knocking loose a clod of dirt.

Liara gave an undignified sound in response. "I just want to be awake for this comm signal back to Earth... then go rinse the surface of planet Normandy out of my scalp and go to sleep."

"Planet... Normandy?" Garrus had a feeling it wasn't Liara's name. He looked over at Javik.

The prothean shrugged. "Normandy is the human flagship, the vital spear that struck at the Reapers. It would be an honor for this planet to be named as such."

Garrus could read between the lines. "Protheans rename every planet they land on then?"

"Naturally." Javik said, his accent thick but calm.

"Oh, bet Liara loved that conversation." Garrus' right mandible twitched outwards in a grimace. Liara's glare told him as much. "Well, I'll warn EDI about the electrical system devouring ants."

"And warn Joker about the fruit." Liara called, slumping against the ground curling her arms around her knees as her back slumped against Javik's legs. The prothean made no move to push her off, simply standing firmly in place so she could use him as a back rest.

Garrus paused, one eye narrowing. "Fruit?"

Liara opened her mouth to explain, and quite unexpectedly flushed lavender and went rigid. "Just... don't eat the native fruit. There's a... reaction." At this, three of Javik's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to pointedly stare out in the opposite direction. The prothean's hands twitched, and he quickly folded his arms. Strange... but Javik's arms were scored with tiny scratches as well... but most of these ended in little half moon lines shaped like...

...little asari fingernails...

Garrus was sure that shock had managed to freeze him before his jaw fell open or his mandibles went slack. __'… well... dammit. There goes THAT mental image.' __Joker was probably going to be pissed to see his pool had failed. Liara jumping Javik had NOT been a part of the bet. Deciding to leave that conversation for a whole different mess of awkward, Garrus decided to take a leaf out of Alenko's book and 'play dead'... or at least stupid. A strategic retreat brought him to the safety of the quantum comm system.

A hailing message had been sent out about five minutes before, a generic __'we're about to call you, please standby' __broadcast to prepare the receiving party. Joker once said the message sounded like old Earth telemarketer calls, only without trying to sell you stuff during dinner. Static filled the comm panel, not even enough of a signal to craft any sort of image of the other end of the communicator. Traynor adjusted the signal again, frowning at the panel. This time color added itself to the static, but it remained broken and snow filled distortion.

"What if you hit it really hard?" Vega gestured towards the machinery. "Esteban does that sometimes, starts working again. He can punch some sense into machines."

"Where was Cortez's magical fist when we were shooting Reapers?" Garrus seated himself on a supply crate, his feet aching from the long shift.

Cortez was flopped over on a empty crate, his immobilized leg raised to take the weight off of it. "There is only so much common sense I can punch into machines. I can't fix __crazy__." Cortez snorted.

The static gathered, it was definitely a figure now and a big one at that. Heavy and repetitive sounds were coming from the comm, like a record skipping in place and repeating the same part over and over.

"EDI?" Traynor called out, even as the AI took her place beside the comm and started fine-tuning the signal. "Thanks." The combat team was silent, watching as the image flickered between clearing up and dissolving all together.

"-epard?" Static ate most of the sound, but the voice was male and booming. Krogan. Then, another word made it through, "-Battlemaster." At that one word, the entire crew knew exactly which krogan it was. Grunt.

Almost immediately, the static cut in half and a glowing blue hologram in all the krogan's likeliness stood in the center of the display plate. Grunt's bright blue eyes were almost white in the blue projection, his silver armor dancing with static. The young male's eyes widened and his pupils contracted to a tight band when he finally saw who was sending the signal.

"Ha. Hahaha! I knew it!" Grunt roared, throwing both arms into the air and then slamming his head forward as if to headbutt something. "I told them the Normandy was fine." Grunt's unfused crest was adorn with several claw marks as if he had been swarmed by husks and simply shaken them off. His armor had definitely seen better days, with one of the shoulder pauldrons completely gone and a bevy of dings and dents marring the rest. The odd thing that caught everyone's attention was the new 'gear' Grunt was wearing on his back.

… if 'Small Children' were now a fashion trend, that is.

"Grunt... you seem to have acquired a human kid from somewhere." Tali cocked her head, her hands meeting to begin the familiar wringing gesture.

The krogan looked over his shoulder, as if this was news to him as well. The child's hair and eye color couldn't be made out through the blue tint of the hologram, but both appeared the same shade of brilliant blue in the hologram as Grunt's armor. She was young, perhaps six or so, but appeared to be in good shape considering the synthetic apocalypse that had just mowed over Earth. One of the kid's hands was clutching the remaining shoulder guard with her other was trying to grasp at his forehead plate to keep herself tossed over his hump.

Grunt simply made eye contact with the girl and then nodded. "Yeah. Earth's full of these things. The small ones managed to hide from the Reapers... we keep pulling them out of odd places. Found this little pyjak eating my food out of my backpack. I think I'm going to keep her." The krogan had a wide grin splitting his face.

The child copied him, missing a few front teeth but trying to show all of them and her gums in the typical krogan 'smile'.

"Y-you're going to __keep her__?" Kaidan's voice rose to the level of alarm. He wouldn't wish a child on a krogan ever... it was like giving a krogan instructions on building a rocket and hoping they didn't fuck it up somehow. The entire krogan race seemed prone to aiming the rocket at themselves than into space. Giving a teenage krogan a defenseless human child? … not going to win any awards on whosoever idea that had been.

"Yeah, I like this one. She's clever. I think I'll name her Shepard." Grunt was staring straight at Kaidan, the challenge coming across even through a blue glowing hologram – __'and what are you going to do about it?'__

Garrus felt a shiver, standing just a bit straighter. He knew people were going to be naming their kids after Shepard... hell, Jacob was busy trying to talk Brynn Cole out of it. But seeing the very fact right front of him that he would forever be hearing people call Shepard's name...

EDI spoke quickly, before an argument broke out over the comm, "You are aware that human children come with names pre-installed?"

The news took Grunt by surprise. Twisting his neck to look up at his hump, Grunt jostled the child on his shoulder. "Pyjak... what's your name?"

The child gave him the best krogan grin she could manage. "Pie-jack!" she replied.

"Close enough!" Grunt shrugged, jostling the child again. Reaching over his shoulder and grasping futilely a few times, he finally managed to catch the girl by the back of her jumper, hauling her off his shoulder and to the ground. "Go find the clan leader... and that old human warlord if you can."

'Pyjak' (or mini-Shepard) gave a little hop, unsteady on the ground, and bolted from the room.

"Ok... anyone who said they were worried about krogan eating everyone else for food... I think you lose that argument. Grunt's totally keeping that one, and I think he's going to give Jack a run for her money on 'defending his kid with crazy'." Joker whispered, nudging James. The marine grumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a candy bar as the betting fee. The pilot tucked the bar away, smug grin firmly in place.

"Where the hell are you? All we had to go on was signals that the Normandy turned tail right before the Reapers did and you all vanished." Grunt was looking at Garrus, not Alenko. "Where is Shepard?"

Ice formed in the pit of Garrus' stomach. That... as the very last thing he wanted to hear. He had wanted to hear that Shepard was forming survival groups on Earth, or even at the very least recovering in a hospital. Hearing the Shepard was MIA...

"She made it on board the Citadel... haven't you managed to get onboard it yet?" Alenko's hand pushed at Garrus' arm, shifting him out of Grunt's view as if it would end the turmoil.

Grunt snorted, looking frustrated even by krogan standards. "It's a blood soaked mess up there. We're still trying to identify humans. … Found Anderson though. He didn't make it." Remorse was not a krogan emotion, but the young male lowered his eyes, bowing his head slightly. The chain of command meant anyone who respected Shepard respected her superiors as well, and Grunt knew that Shepard's Battlemaster was a man who deserved it all on his own.

The crew of the Normandy all fell silent.

"Found the Illusive Man too." Wrex's deep voice rumbled off-screen, the hologram expanding as the krogan vanguard stormed onto the display disc. The little 'Pyjak' came in his wake, tossing herself straight back at Grunt as the younger male yielding his position to the clan leader. "Someone got him with a pistol. Not Shepard's normal MO, but figure this might mean something to someone."

In Wrex's oversized hand sat the Last Escape. The tiny pistol Garrus carried but never used, and had given to Shepard in lieu of being unable to come with her himself. All the mods were still carefully in place, all of them illegal by council law as well... not that it meant much on Omega when it had first strapped it on.

Garrus didn't stay to hear anything else.


	11. Terrible at Secrets

__OH HOLY CRAP! FISH! What are you doing floating upside down and lying on the floor of the tank gasping for breath? My powerhead shorted, probably electrocuted my fish, and then overheated – jacking the water temp WAY above survivable for the poor clownfish. My shrimps were as happy as … well... (insert shellfish pun here), but those poor fish. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU FISH! FISH CPR! DON'T YOU DARE DIE! We survived moving together, in which I stuffed you all into a cooler for three days, don't you die on me now!__

_… ___sunnvafish.__

__Updating this fic again, now that I finished 'Meanwhile'. The other side-stories I intended to write will have to wait, I've put this one off long enough now. I fly with no beta and very little proof-reading, BOOYAH. I'll have to proof-read things later, pointing them out is helpful, since I have a short attention- OMG what's that! *runs off*__

**_**UPDATE **_**__–... on the fish. Harlequin and Columbine the clownfish have moved on to a better place. A place where there is an eternal fishy bar waiting for them. I'mma miss you two *sobbing*. I now have to cycle the tank and get a new powerhead to try to figure out why my poor fish were boiled alive. You want an expensive habit, try salt water fish (dagnabbit, and I know I'm going to pour more money into that tank too). Fish are my secret weakness.__

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><p><strong>Limbo<br>Chapter 11 – Terrible at secrets  
>706/12**

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><p>The entire Reaper fleet listened to the transmission between the Normandy and Earth with a sort of dull interest. Ceph made adjusted notes to Shepard's database codex the whole time, using his own massive processor to derive the results back on Earth from Grunt and Wrex's words. None of the small scout Oculi ships had dared to approach Earth or even enter the system due to the entirety of the Victory Fleet being present, active, and armed. Long range dreadnought scans could only tell the Reapers so much on the status of the beings on that tiny planet.<p>

Intercepting quantum messages was the equivalent of a man with a tin can pressed against the wall listening in on a phone tap several hundred miles away. It just SHOULDN'T have happened. But as Shepard had the feeling that Reapers had a low-tech solution to how they did it. Probably indoctrinated a soldier a while back and the soldier set a bug on the Earth-bound communicator. Or maybe even something as terrible as they got the bug on the Normandy herself.

No, Shepard shook that idea out of her head. EDI would have detected it, being made with Reaper tech herself. EDI was always on the guard for anything after the ship or her crew, more-so once she became the ship. The AI was fiercely protective of the organics she carried around, and Shepard would have had to have been blind to not notice how careful the AI was around Joker as well.

The data from the transmission was added to the Reaper's databases and once the signal ended all of them returned to their tasks. All of them save for Shepard. The human-based program remained where she had been and was turning the transmission over and over again in her head.

It was clear that the assumption on both sides of the transmission was that she was dead. … and she supposed they were right. But it was a slice of painful truth she had intended to spare them all. Better to assume she was alive somewhere but unable to contact them. But for them to learn of her death in this manner... Shepard barely manged to hold back a wave of regret to keep from crippling her new fleet.

"Then contact them." Harbinger's rattling voice thrummed in the air of the dead space Shepard occupied.

The woman blinked, jerking back to attention. When a two kilometer ship 'sneaks up' on you... you have just failed at life. "What?"

"Raising contact with the Normandy would be a flawed plan. However planting information to be found by them would suit our purpose well enough. Tell them not to search for you, or confirm you have exited the realm of organic existence. Either would suit our purpose." Harbinger's normal tone of abject boredom and malice wasn't present at current. Instead the Reaper spoke with a true monotone.

"Generally, a letter saying 'yep, I'm dead!' doesn't go over well. And telling them to not come looking for me in the database of all Reapers is pretty much exactly how it is going to work out." Shepard paused suddenly, eyes narrowing. "__Our __purpose?"

"Your purpose is our purpose. Retreating from every organic species vessel that is searching for you will slow down Reaper progress on reconstruction on the relays. If the organics believe you are alive and on board one of the Reaper dreadnoughts, they will throw their lives away to attempt to reach you." The sad thing was Harbinger was likely correct.

If the truth would only get her allies killed as they came to assault the Reapers to 'rescue her'... what about a lie? "Liara's broker network!" An idea glimmered in her mind, the darkness of the Reaper Convergence sweeping with color as Shepard found herself altering the code around her as she worked.

"Shepard." Harbinger recoiled at her meddling, rebuking her attempts to alter the Reaper's instructions.

"So telling them I'm dead-but-alive is a bad idea, and telling them I'm now the Mother-of-all-Reapers isn't going to sit well either. But why not plant info on the location of the relays we are building once they are done. We can tell them I got drafted into a new mission as Anderson's last request. Liara checks that damn network like it was __Spacebook __every ten minutes, she'll find the planted data the moment it goes online. So in five years we stick that in the Broker Network and they'll have places to look for new relays." Shepard shuffled through the massive piles of data, compiling things to tuck inside the shadow broker network.

"Would you really wait five years to tell them the new locations?" Harbinger was suspicious and still speaking in a dull monotone.

"Yes." Shepard said firmly.

The correct answer, she knew, was 'no'. Harbinger knew it too. She wanted to put the whole story on the network. She wanted to tell Liara that she was programming inside all the Reapers so please don't shoot them while they rebuild, kthxbai. Fat lot of good it would do them to know that though. Based on the information Ceph had compiled from the message between Normandy and Earth, the stealth ship was _fatally _damaged. The Reapers were could see the inevitable.

Normandy would never survive the kind of deep space travel needed to return to Earth.

And even if it could, only Liara and EDI would see the long trip to it's end. It might actually feel like the war was over if she could see them one more time. Just to know that her sacrifice had been for the best for all answer.

"Shepard." Harbinger's voice was almost an exhalation of breath. "This... hurts you." Her reminiscing thoughts had dragged the dreadnought's attention back to her.

There was a dry chuckle from the Commander. "And by extension, hurts you too?" She asked bitterly. "God, you were a dick during the whole Collectors fight, you know that right? In fact, you still are a dick. A giant dick-like ship."

__**Offense**___**.**_ Of course. Shepard figured that by this point Reapers grasped the concept of insults. If she were to whip out 'yo momma' insults those might not have an effect, but 'yo code is so obsolete' sure would if Ceph was any sort of guideline.

"It was vital to our task for the Reapers to acquire you." Harbinger rumbled, still affronted.

"Yeah, not going to lie... organic beings __really __don't like being 'acquired' or collected. There is no prize for collecting all of us... or _liquifying_ _us into a monstrous slurry_." Shepard hissed.

The darkness seemed to swell and part as a pair of curtains sliding aside as Shepard felt the familiar pull of Harbinger trying to induct her into his systems. Most Reapers simply spoke their thoughts or dumped them upon the Convergence without much warning. Harbinger was a secretive bastard, he seemed to be sitting on a ton of answers but hoarding them all away.

Resisting the pull, Shepard said, "You better have something damn important to tell me if I go."

"The answer to your question - why we were after you." Harbinger offered, or perhaps tried to bribe.

Morbid curiosity took Shepard over. She knew the hardships Liara had gone through to get her body away from the Collectors and then passed to Cerberus. But she had never found out why there had been so much of a fight for a corpse.

"Ok, lets hear it." Shepard followed the path from the hub of the Reapers into Harbinger's programming. "Did you forget that upon death, organic corpses mostly just sit there and do nothing? Unlike Reapers, we don't indoctrinate the shit out of people when we are dead."

Harbinger gave a sharp jab of __**pressure **__that was either ironic amusement or sarcasm, "You are dead and are still trying to 'indoctrinate the shit out of us'. Your argument is invalid."

The woman blinked. My god. The Reapers... were developing a sense of humor?

… at least she knew where EDI got her bizarre enjoyment of strange humor now.

"Ok, fine. So things I do when dead aside... why did you want my body?...fuck... that sounded wrong. Harbinger, if you answer this question 'wrong', I'm driving all of us into the sun. No questions about it." Shepard felt her flesh crawl at the thought.

The Reaper simply answered her question dutifully. "You were to function as humanity's Reaper system."

That... was almost as bad of an answer as thinking the Reapers just wanted her for her body.

"Are you all __insane?__You assumed this would work? I'd be more likely to turn on all of you once you plugged me in rather than help!" Shepard hissed.

"Yes." Harbinger said. "This is why Reapers dislike one another. However the loyalty programming overwrites any actions that would go against the Catalyst's instructions."

There was a long pause, Shepard's jaw slowly locking and her teeth clenching. "The reason Reapers hate each other is because you are forcing a member of whatever species was liquified to join you in fucking over the rest of the galaxy. So you all get revenge on this great wrong done to you by converting yet more organics into Reaper-ships... Excuse me for a moment." Her voice was cool but calm, the same tone she reserved for the Council or mentally retarded people. But saying that is just being redundant.

Turning, Shepard exited back into the center of the Convergence with a cool expression. She swatted at the data that swirled around her and took a deep breath for a moment. "YOU ARE ALL ASSHOLES." The woman bellowed.

Every Reaper now radiated an aura of dull _**acceptance**__, _not questioning __why __they were assholes... simply accepting the fact they __were__and she was pointing out the obvious.

"What else is new." Ceph rumbled, so amazingly un-surprised by this that he actually had a sense of __**glee **__about him.

Harbinger was trying to pull Shepard out of her center spot in the middle of the Reaper's census, a burning sensation of __**embarrassment **__rolling over the Reaper. Instead of allowing the synthetic privacy to drop yet another bombshell, Shepard simply merged her copy-data into Ceph's own processor. The ancient Reaper would act as a barrier between her and Harbinger until she cooled off. And for the good of the fleet, having a fit would only cause the Reapers to have robotic seizures and halt all work.

"Ceph, thanks for at least being an asshole with a sense of humor." Shepard said, making herself comfortable on top of a pile of carefully sorted data. "I'm going to be in here for a bit. Let me know if Harbinger is being a dick out there, or something."

"I will notify you if he __ceases __to be a … 'dick'. That unit had never operated under any alternative modes." Ceph rumbled, the heavy pressure of his Reaper mind was more like a soft dusting of cobwebs.

There was a slight twitch of Shepard's lips at this. "Always been a dick, huh? What's he been up to that makes him the Major Asshole of all of you."

Ceph was rolling data back and forth, setting it aside in his own organizational system. "Harbinger is in charge of converting and creation of all new Reaper units. He replaced his predecessor and all new units after creation are met with his presence first."

Shepard snorted. "So Doctor Harbinger gives all the Reapers-babies a swift spank on the ass once they are born and tosses them out to start purging organics? He was probably pissed he had so many different species to Reaper-ize this time around, since all the organics share power."

"Humans were the only organic species to be brought into the Reaper Convergence this cycle." Ceph rumbled.

There was an insistent poke through Ceph's decrepit firewalls. Harbinger was trying to get in, or perhaps pull Shepard out. "Wait, what? … you mean that Reaper-fetus we aborted? It was the only one this cycle? No asari-Reapers or turian-Reapers... or … fuck, krogan-reapers would be impossible to kill!"

"Negative, only human-platformed units created. Humans were shown to be the dominant race this cycle, their progress dwarfed all data recorded by the other races in their advancement. Gathering inferior organics leads to inferior Reapers."

Shepard was about to give her opinion in a rather colorful amount of curses when she was struck by the weight of Ceph's words. "... you said... 'units'... plural." Horror dulled her words to a hush.

"Two human-based Reapers were created. The one spawned by indoctrinated protheans, and one created on Rannoch with synthetic-geth labor." Ceph flashed a wall of data to Shepard, as if to prove this.

"I'm... I'm going to kill him." Shepard choked out. Information during the war had reported that several more colonies went dark during the invasion and were presumed killed, but to know that they had been shipped to Rannoch, processed, and then transformed into the Reaper that Shepard had eventually killed with an oversized laser pointer... It was beyond nightmarish.

That wasn't why Shepard was going to kill Harbinger though. It was the fact the Reaper had __said nothing about this.__

"No... murder is too good for him. Ceph, I'm going to tear out his processor and replace it with a Speak-N-Spell. No one will tell the difference anyway." Right. Because you pull the string and Harbinger used to say 'The cow goes Mooo, this hurts yoooou.' almost on command.

Ceph suddenly had a burst of alarm and the strength of his firewalls nearly tripled, trying to keep Shepard contained and Harbinger out while both of them were now beating at the barrier. The strain on the old Reaper was obvious. Processes crashed or hung up from the effort, glitches began to prompt errors, which slowed him down even more. He couldn't keep his firewall up for long.

"Shepard." Ceph writhed, his black form in space twitching almost uncontrollably as he listed to the side, nearly rendered off-line from the strong emotion of hate the woman radiated. "Destruction of Reapers will remove and destroy Shepard-code memories and personality. Destruction of Assholes not recommended." The ancient Reaper nearly buckled into console errors at the effort of keeping the woman held back. The woman seemed not to hear Ceph, focused entirely on the slight signal from Harbinger on the other side of the barrier.

"Cu-current levels of emotion-rage incapacitating to Reaper fleet, full hibernation mode in five minutes... would you like to postpone?" Ceph's systems were beginning to shutdown, and the more programs that went offline, it seemed the more he sounded as if someone had given Microsoft Windows a voice. And evil voice, yes, but it was mostly just kind of sad with lag and errors.

Pulling away from the barrier, Shepard took a shuddering breath, anger sizzling under her skin. "_Fine_. I won't kill him... But tell him this. I want data on the Normandy's status. I look out for my own... unlike you group of bastards. We're sending a scout to watch the Normandy."

At once the firewall dissolved, and the sensation of Harbiner's presence was pushing down on her like a heavy weight. "No." The Reaper said, toneless and rumbling.

"You say it like you have a choice." Shepard sneered. "We're sending a scout, or I release full status info on the relays into Liara's Broker Network. _Now_ you have the same kind of choice the glowing-boy-child Catalyst gave me. All of the choices _suck _for you."

Hesitation trembled through Harbinger's systems, and irritation ran through Ceph's. The ancient Reaper ejected Shepard back into the Convergence center and somehow managed to 'slam the door' on the way out so he could reboot. God knows how Reapers slam doors that don't exist... Harbinger was reabsorbed back into the mass consciousness of Reapers and they seemed to be discussing the options as a whole.

A few moments passed before they brought their answer back. Seconds really, Reapers could communicate faster than even the geth could.

"We choose the scout. But we are following the existing rules that the scout must not be seen. The scout party will not interact with organics in any way." Harbinger's __**pressure **__sensation of irritation had reached a peak, probably just a few more taunts away from some sort of outburst himself (though in his case it would probably be lasers rather than yelling).

"Deal. Wouldn't have it any other way either." Shepard folded her arms, tipping her head slightly. "And as my choice as scout... we're sending Blinky."

"Shepard." The breathy rumble of Harbinger sounded... _**aghast**_. "Status indicated you __liked __those organics... so why are you sending __that __unit?"

"Because it pisses you off." Shepard smiled, her winning charismatic grin that could convince shopkeepers that this was totally her favorite store on the Citadel. "Blinky. Road trip." The Commander connected directly to the Oculi, tucked in the belly of a dreadnought.

"Roads are superfluous." The tiny Oculi was fighting confusion at the command, but took it in stride. "Where this unit is going... it will not require roads."

"... did you just quote 'Back to the Future'?" Shepard raised one eyebrow.

"... no." The tiny Reaper said, completely unconvincing.

Getting Blinky out of his current sector and into the Horsehead Nebula would be a 'road trip' of epic proportions, taking hundreds of years... if it were an organic. Instead, Shepard released permission to transfer the Oculi's database from one metal shell to another, much like the geth could upload themselves to mobile platforms at will. Within the span of seconds, Blinky had crossed from one side of the galaxy to the other, now in the belly of a different dreadnought and fitted into a new Oculi shell.

"Blinky, this is serious. You are to monitor the Normandy's signals, status, and well being __and nothing else__. Fruit Basket incident, remember?" Shepard wanted to make sure she wasn't about to make a terrible mistake. While Oculi were on the low spectrum of Reaper AI, it put them still well above current geth level intelligence... except for Blinky who seemed more like a hyperactive krogan.

"Yes. No contact. No weapons. Observe only. All Fruit Baskets are to be withheld." Blinky agreed, ejecting himself from the Reaper dreadnought and flipping around to head towards his destination. "Naked panic is to be avoided."

"That sounds about right. Keep us updated." Shepard gave a brisk nod to the smallest Reaper as it closed the comm connections. "I really should not have likened the return of you bastards to giving out fruit baskets... he's never going to forget that, is it?"

Harbinger was looming, as always, near her code. Ceph was as well, and he was the one who answered first. "Data corruption is a delayed process, but will occur. With time, he will lose the data." __**Regret**___**.**_ The ancient, battle-scarred Reaper was actually __freaking regretful__. True, it was about his 'youth' or whatever passed as youth among synthetics, but he comprehended loss.

It was a step in the right direction.

"Ceph, you are my new favorite."

The ancient Reaper registered surprise at her statement, which quickly morphed into something not-quite unlike happiness but probably closer to appreciation. It seemed that perhaps millions of years of experience (and errors) had given Ceph a leg up from being an emotionally retarded tin-can.

Harbinger, on the other hand, also had resisted surprise at her statement, and then fell straight into a stinging, murky emotion that Shepard couldn't quite identify. It wasn't anger or rage, but it certainly wasn't a positive emotion either, though it was an improvement over feeling nothing at all. Let them all stew on that.

"Well, back to work. I want all Oculi retrofitted ASAP. We're about to launch a galaxy wide strip-mining operation... fuck this is going to be boring." The Commander hissed, memories of headaches and stabbing pain in her back at standing in the CIC launching probe after probe at planets. Hell, on a whim, she strip-mined the entire system of the krogan DMZ and gift wrapped the ore to Wrex for the laughs.

That had been a lot of damn gift wrap. Paid for by Cerberus. Thank you, Illusive Man, for making a cranky old krogan nearly have a hemorrhage when the Normandy dropped the 500 tons of metal in his camp. Worth it.

However the memory of the mind-numbing boredom of mining triggered a reaction in every Reaper. Every single one (even Ceph) rolled sideways and surrendered to a wave of ennui as if to say, __'fuck it, we're going to take a nap instead.'__

"Whole fleet of assholes." Shepard scowled, returning to her projects. For the first time since she had woken up with no body, it felt __good __to be getting things done again.

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><p>The crew of the Normandy had been dismayed of the response from Earth. The good news that their home planets and people had survived outweighed the bad, but the knowledge that there was simply no Shepard there there was a crippling blow to moral. Garrus didn't have to hang around to the end of the transmission to know that everyone was disappointed.<p>

Garrus had retreated back into the ship. It was stifling, even hotter than normal with the forward batteries being taxed to draw power for the QED comm. However it was quiet and empty, and that was exactly what Garrus wanted right now. He couldn't face his friend's sympathetic looks, or the unfiltered sorrow that stooped everyone's backs.

Seated with his back to the workbench table in the battery compartment, knees drawn and both hands pressed into the sides of his helmet, Garrus felt bone tired. His fractured hand was barely able to even curl into a fist now, overworked from days of calibrating the batteries, repairing fissures and being trapped in his hardsuit. Usually there was a dull ache in his shoulder from carrying the 98-pound Widow around, but now the pain had spread down his arm to his palm making him feel as if something had made a good attempt at tearing it off.

__Tink tink tink tink___._ Something metallic clinked against metal rapidly, speeding up into a high pitched whine. Twisting his helmeted head, fringe bumping into the tabletop behind him, Garrus spotted a wobbling ball of silver slowly traveling along the apex of floor and wall down the battery chamber. The tilt of the floor ensured it would always roll towards the door, and the sphere was only a few inches to freedom and escaping into the mess hall.

The sphere had a sort of resistance to it, much like two poles of a magnet repelling each other. The field was probably some sort of eezo generated bubble, perhaps with a solid chunk of the material at the core. When Garrus' metal gauntlets closed over the sphere, the field seemed to travel through the metal and up his good arm, causing it to tingle. Still pulsing and vibrating in what seemed like a cheerful manner, the sphere continued to do it's normal mysterious routine.

"What's there left to be cheerful about?" Garrus asked the sphere, as if it really were happy.

__**Progress.**__

The word just... imposed itself in his mind with a startling clarity. Progress? What the hell... well... if his brain was now playing Devil's Advocate and reminding him of the work they had done on the Normandy so far – true, it was progress. Or perhaps he was subconsciously thinking that the war was over – the battle Shepard had started was finally finished and done.

__**Hope.**__

Now... that was odd. Garrus was never an optimist. At best he could be considered a cheerful pessimist, and at worst he was a fatalist, but optimism was Tali and Shepard's bit.

__**Pressure.**__

Jerking his hand back from the sphere, it tumbled to the floor, rolling along two grooved plates until it came to the wall. The sensation of heavy pressure, now synonymous with 'Reapers' in his mind, had no place among the first two thoughts. Which of these things is not like the other? Garrus was going to venture as guess and say it was the last one.

"Spirits, do you have to keep doing that?" Garrus flexed his fingers, as if the gloves were covered in something vile.

The sphere's only reaction was to stop all movement and do a convincing impression of a paperweight. Why it started and stopped seemingly random was just another prothean mystery, but Garrus felt the temperamental little thing was trying to teach him a lesson or pouting whenever it stopped.

"Can't believe I'm talking to a ball." Garrus rubbed at his forehead, forgetting the helmet and bumping his forefinger into the metal. "And Spirits, I've lost it if I'm thinking an inanimate object is __sulking__."

Warily picking up the sphere again, Garrus tucked it right into his pocket without gazing at his distorted reflection in it's surface. "Turian, you should throw it out the airlock, it's evil, no good can come from talking to paperweights." The accent was mangled due to his voice's subharmonics, but the was clearly Javik he was attempting to imitate.

As if on cue, the sphere gave a comforting rumble, numbing his hand even as he removed it from the pocket.

"Well, nice to know you agree... I think."

"Who agrees?" A voice cut through Garrus' comm, and he took a small iota of pride that he didn't startle at the female digitized voice.

"I agree. With myself. I'm having a __consensus.__" Garrus replied to EDI, hastily.

"Two people hardly make a consensus. Particularly if they are both the same person pretending to be another person." EDI was outside the ship, or hell she was _still_ _the ship_, perhaps she was always hearing and seeing things going on in here. With the vessel as damaged as it was though, Garrus had a feeling the AI only heard him through his suits comm system. "Would you care to ask more people for their opinions as well? Such as Javik?"

The damn AI had heard him! "No, no EDI. Definitely no. Javik … wouldn't have an opinion on the matter." A flat out lie. Javik would certainly have an opinion... it would simply be how best to crack a turian carapace open for mocking him.

There was an amused half-chuckle from the AI. Silence fell over the comm, leaving Garrus sitting on the floor in the forward battery, wondering just what they were going to do now. The ship was barely able to send messages and the Normandy SR-2 was not meant to make planetary landings on a good day. Now with half of her engines gone, getting out of the small world's gravity well was impossible. Rations could not last forever, and this planet appeared to only support levo life-forms. Eventually, he and Tali would simply run out of ways to cheat death. If Garrus could do just one thing, it would be to give Tali a chance to see her home world, one last time. And if that meant refusing rations to give her more time...

"Did you ask Miss Zorah about her new hobby?" EDI asked, this time in person as she stood in front of him. He had not even heard her enter the room. The robotic body was damp with condensation, probably having come straight in from outside and immediately became dew covered. Both of her arms crossed behind her hips and she cocked her head at him in anticipation of his answer.

"Telling geth jokes?" Garrus ventured a guess halfheartedly. He had come into the Normandy to get away from everyone... but somehow he found he didn't mind EDI's presence. Probably because the AI had always been a presence when on-board the ship. Privacy from her was impossible.

EDI shook her head instead of verbally responding. So very human-like, in her behavior. "She was preparing to retire as Admiral of 'shooting things in the face' to Admiral of 'growing things on Rannoch'... both were her technical titles, she claims."

Garrus rested his half folded hand over the pocket of the hardsuit, feeling the sphere still rumbling inside. "I'm sure her's would be the most lovely shotgun-tree on the planet." Sarcasm, defense of those trying to hide themselves from others.

"She had acquired seeds from one of the Flotilla's seed banks on board a liveship. She was eager to test her theory, and started cultivating them shortly after retaking her home world." EDI was examining the battery, touching each carefully patched hole that had torn into the metal. "While less than 60% germinated, it would still be sufficient to restock your supplies with grown materials."

It took a few moments to finally comprehend was EDI was saying, his fingers now resting on the prothean sphere. "She got a hydroponics farm started?"

"Small scale, but it survived the crash. Currently all plant life is flourishing on this world's climate." EDI drew her attention to the battery, letting Garrus stare into space without her scrutiny.

Starvation was no longer an issue, at least if whatever the dextro-crops were managed to grow. If the crops actually could be eaten in a form that wasn't tasteless nutrient paste, it was quite possibly the best outcome they could have asked for.

It did still leave the __other __issue untouched. "EDI... what do you think our chances are of repairing the Normandy and actually getting off-world?" Mandibles tight against his jaw, Garrus dropped his head to rest his chin on his chest.

The AI hesitated, running the numbers and calculating the odds. "Very low. But not impossible. With biotics assisting takeoff, it would be feasible to leave the gravity well of this world with only 2 of the engines functioning."

"And the timeline to do it?" Garrus asked.

EDI's voice softened with regret. "Years."


	12. Learn to Adapt

__I apparently exist to be distracted. Sorry! Life pounced on me in a darkened alley, knocked me out, stole my kidney, and then burned down my house. Freaking life. The biggest cause of this is the birth of my nephew... born at only 26 weeks (FYI... 40 week gestation is normal... that baby was EARLY). Baby Darius, you are hereby dubbed 'Kid Impatient', and you are GROUNDED to that incubator, young man! I've been helping out my sister, visiting the kid in the NICU, and various family things. I was so behind, I only just got around to play through the 'new' endings of ME3.__

__I'm unsure if I'm going to rewrite a bit of this to fit better with the updated endings, but it would mean going through every chapter and adjusting small things. Perhaps I should just concentrate on writing for now! I'll be lazy and sitting around for a while so I'm free to write again. I'm headed out tomorrow morning to get my birthday tattoo done... on my foot...this might be painful. If you hear screaming – it's me, if you hear crying – it's the tattoo artist as a deck him in the face for make me scream.__

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><p><strong><strong>Limbo<br>Chapter 12 ******- Learn to Adapt  
><strong>****10/7/12 (Now with less confusion 11/19/12)****

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><p>"Strip mining for uncharted world CXT-241?" Shepard groaned, her eyes rolled upwards in frustration.<p>

"Completed. Platinum resources have been collected. Negligible reserves of element zero found." The Reaper in charge of over-seeing mining operations was about as excited at his job as Shepard was.

"Any anomalies?" There had been a point where if EDI reported an anomalies, Shepard was holding a shotgun in the hanger bay before she had finished scanning the planet, eager to be off the ship. Most of the time anomalies had been prothean objects and ruins, but on occasion it had been merc bases and the Commander learned she was bringing her shotgun to every archeological dig from then on. Liara had even modified her archeology supply to include thermal clips and medi gel for prothean ruins... just in case.

"No anomalies." The Reaper reported, already passing off mining duty to another Reaper stationed above another prospective mining world. The ritual repeated: strip mine a planet, boredom, check on Blinky's approach to planet Normandy, boredom, overwrite a data directory titled 'turian defense grid' with stored memories of the movie Fleet and Flotilla, followed by yet more boredom.

"Ceph... how do you deal with the millions of years of boredom?" Shepard opened a direct line to the millions of years old Reaper.

The ancient synthetic had been cataloging the current amount of ore and allocating the proper percentages to smelt together to form the alloy used in constructing the mass relays. "Hibernate. Complain. Destroy advanced organics... repeat." The Reaper sounded more deadpan than ever before, but Shepard caught a wave of _**irony**_ coming from the Reaper where before it had only been the daunting sensation of pressure. Sarcasm. The Reaper had mastered it quite nicely.

"So __now__we just hibernate and complain?" Shepard winced at this. "We need hobbies."

Ceph gave a rumble of ascent, his firewalls flickering weakly as he tried to maintain a semblance of a private conversation with Shepard.

A report from Blinky came across Shepard's sensors (she had sensors... god... well, it was more accurate than saying 'eyes' as she really didn't have a body anymore) and the woman examined the data with interest.

"Results?" Ceph rumbled, curious. In reaction to this incoming report, one of the other mining Reapers pitched it's attention and curiosity towards the report as well.

"Blinky apparently started some riots and without even being there." Shepard sighed, tossing a look over her shoulder and surprised to see no fewer than five Reapers trying to read the report before she had even passed it through to the Convergence yet.

"Unsurprising." Ceph gave a short blare of his klaxon.

"You aren't at all curious on how he did it?" The human asked.

"Assumption is that the unit started fires, released missiles, or distributed fruit baskets." Was the answer.

"Wise ass." Shepard had a wide spreading smirk on her face. "And all wrong. He told the other Oculi units he had a special designation icon... and now they all want ones too." The thought of naming some 2 million tiny robots would be enough to cause a sane person to point at them and yell "YOU ARE ALL NAMED BOB!" and give up, but Shepard was... glad. They __wanted __names. The geth were isolated from the quarians because they didn't originally have individuality – perhaps this was proceeding the same.

Harbinger didn't find it amusing. "Waste of time. Impulse units do not have the longevity of Reaper units. Naming them would take longer than they would last."

Shepard bit her lip for a moment. "Harbinger. Did you know I named all my fish?"

The Reaper hesitated as he absorbed this information, and Shepard watched as it was filed towards a directory labeled __'Random Useless Unknown Trivia.' __Cute. About as Cute as a rabid varren, that is.

"Yep. Named them all. And some of them didn't even live through one single mission. I swear, I come back all shot to hell, and they are belly up at the tank. But they all died with names. It was the least I could do for dragging them through space. Same for all of you."

Reapers were silent. The sensation of __**pressure **__was gone, but she was positive every program connected into the Convergence was listening.

Drawing herself up, Shepard opened a direct link with approximately 2 million Oculi and the air of the Convergence was filled with the buzzing and high pitched tremble of their programs. It was like someone had just kicked a hive of wasps into the room. "I'm going to need names... I don't think I know 2 million of them."

"Bob." One of the Reapers said, solemnly.

There was a faint and cracked smile for a single second before Shepard nodded. "That'll do. You. You are now Bob." The Oculi indicated flipped itself upside down, shut off, and plowed engine first into the hull of a destroyer class Reaper in it's _**glee**_ at being given a name by not only Shepard by it's fellow Reapers.

"And you! You are... Robert." Shepard fumbled a bit, but assigned this new Oculi a name as well. True, it was only a variation of Bob... but the little machine didn't seem to care as it also went offline and went pinballing off other Reapers.

"And you! … Bobby." Another Oculi projectile went tumbling through space with a shuddering sensation of _'yaaaa!'_ as it went offline.

Harbinger quickly intercepted Shepard's naming. "Shepard, Oculus data spam is cluttering the filters. If you are to assign them names, it is recommended you do it behind firewall to prevent junk data-,"

"-Emotions." Shepard corrected smugly.

"-from interfering with the fleet." Harbinger had suddenly chosen to be hard of hearing at that moment.

Pausing as if considering something, Shepard instead turned towards the Convergence of dreadnought Reapers rather than the Oculus units. "Roanoak." She called out a name.

There was a reply of __**pressure**__, as well as an acceptance and curiosity from the comm-command Reaper as it responded to her call. At being addressed by it's new designation icon, Roanoak shook off the cloak of ennui that most Reapers wore and answered with a slow sense of _**acceptance**_ in return.

"Atlantis." Shepard called to another Reaper.

This one also responded with __**pressure**___, _but this one's energy quickly spiraled to anxiety and shifted between that and excitement. Different Reaper – different personality.

And to prove her point, she turned her emerald green eyes to her XR and called his name, "Harbinger." She said it with a tone of amusement, as if in a friendly-taunt and she gave him a smile.

Harbinger hadn't meant to, but in had replied in kind with a wave of the same pressure and then a friendly insolent tone back. "Shepard." Upon realizing he had done __more__than the standard Reaper reply of data compacted into the most effective package possible – __**pressure... and acceptance **__– the XR fell silent. Whether Harbinger hadn't realized he enjoyed being addressed by Shepard or perhaps getting her attention other than distant – who knows. The dull monotone sensation of pressure was being replaced.

The Reaper XR gave a harsh jab of his own klaxons in a way that translated approximately to 'dammit!'

"And you say the Oculi are spamming the filters..." The woman was smirking now, her point proven. Turning back to the smallest units, Shepard began naming them one by one, overwriting their hash-tag id with new designation icons.

"Two million..." Shepard mumbled for a moment. She focused on one unit who was buzzing eagerly and with such excitement it was disabling it's own mass effect fields and bumped into it's rumbling neighbors. "I guess I'll start alphabetically with the A's." The whine of eager Oculi cores powering up to try to compensate for their wildly inaccurate flying while the pleading for her attention rose to deafening levels. She does have to admit though, it's less boring than scanning planets for mining again.

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><p>Shepard had been on the S-names for all the oculi when she started to run out of steam. She had quickly realized there weren't 2 million words of any type in English – let alone names-, and diverted to various other languages as well. One Oculi got the prestigious name 'Chair' in a Salarian dialect – Damo. Damo just about blew out his motherboard in glee. Now running low on words, Shepard's mind felt sluggish.<p>

"Squibby." Shepard said.

"You have already named one Squibby." Harbinger said, prodding down the link to where that oculus was.

"Ok then, Squi**gg**y." Shepard corrected.

"There is also a Squiggy as well."

"Fuck it. Your name is Snozzberries." The woman rubbed at her head, the impression of a headache forming. The newly named Reaper-unit turned a barrel roll in joy and lost thruster control completely as he jetted towards a brown dwarf planet. Fortunately it was stopped... by impacting into the hull of a larger dreadnought Reaper trying to round-up the deliriously happy little units. Snozzberries was corralled by the Reaper and moved to a recovery zone – or if not a recovery zone at least an area where Oculi projectiles weren't going to go flying around smashing into everything.

"Next unit awaiting naming." Harbinger prodded down the link again.

Shepard felt her head spinning. "I'm... not feeling it. Got any names left I haven't used?"

Harbinger did not respond to her question, instead the sensation of the Reaper invading her 'personal space' (an ironic term now that she existed as code within all Reapers) and a wave of heavy pressure seemed to engulf her. "Shepard. Your signal is waning. System indicators show code attempting to enter hibernation."

"Is that Reaper-terminoloty for 'I'd like to take a nap'? Because I'm not feeling too awake for some reason." Shepard winced. Her head felt heavy, like it was stuffed full of sawdust. Her senses were trying to convince her the black world around her was now rotating like a merry-go-round.

The looming shadow of Harbinger swelled over her, and Shepard had the feeling the Reaper was trying to 'wake her up' or whatever the equivalent was. When a few moments passed and she felt no different, she had a feeling that while she could alter the Reapers down to their very code they could not do the same to her. That, and the disorienting spin began to evolve into a sickening wobble.

"Shepard. Run a console command, you have been editing Reaper code – an error has been made and is affecting functionality." Harbinger sounded upset – or as distressed as a massive skyscraper synthetic could be. Almost smothering Shepard-code in that familiar blanket of __**pressure**__, it kept the woman blinking blearily as she fumbled.

"I have no clue what you are talking about. Is there a... button or something I push for that? Can I turn it off again? Do I alt-control-delete myself? … kinda wish I had asked Legion when I was in the geth server. I make a pretty poor program, don't I?"

"Reboot." Harbinger insisted.

"I have no clue how to do that, you iron-asshole. If you are going to explain, try explaining in terms that make sense. Either tell me how to not hibernate or how to—how to..." And that was as far as Shepard got before her code shut down into standby.

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><p>Each click of the keys on the console sent a jabbing spike off pain up Garrus' arm. What had once been a clean break at across his hand and bones was now a splintering mass of metallic plates. The damage extending up almost to his forearm. It was only the hardsuit's rigid shell that kept his broken hand together – at least that is how it felt. It was a double edged sword – the pressure kept the pain controlled to a certain point, but the pressure was also cracking damaged plates further. Yet despite the worsening injury, he had been working non-stop since EDI's hesitant estimate on how long it would take to make repairs.<p>

_She had said years._

Even with Tali's new hobby in agriculture and the existing supplies they had, years of repairs had the same sound as bell ringing in a death toll. Even if food wasn't an issue anymore, they still had to deal with their dwindling medical supply. Patching up the battered crew had cost Chakwas most of the reserves she had stowed away. Years meant more time to catch any sort of new and virulent diseases that planet Normandy might be home too, and there might not be a cure in their dwindling medical supplies. Years meant no matter how hard they worked, it would still be __years__. Metal would have to be reforged, ceramics would have to be recast, and plastics reused wherever possible.

Years meant it would be that long before returning to Earth... and Shepard.

If she was there at all.

The pain gave a particularly vicious throb and Garrus hissed. He didn't risk painkillers, not knowing just how scarce resources would be after a few months. The best thing for his pain was to keep the hardsuit on and let the heavy ablative plated armor act as a compress.

EDI had spent a few hours helping to tame the drive core and then retreated from the ship during the end of the shift – exactly coinciding with Joker's normal sleep period. While not necessary to sleep or even take herself offline, EDI had adjusted her own schedule, adapting to match someone who's patterns were so different than her own. Likewise, Harmony had adjusted to match Tali's own schedule, the geth occupying the combat drone following the quarian like a small bird follows it's mother. The synthetic crewmates seemed to __need __contact with the organic ones.

This line of thought caused Garrus to pause, his left hand curling off the keyboard to rest against the hardsuit's pocket. For the past day the sphere had been giving off extreme sensations of boredom. Whenever Garrus dared to handle it, it found himself struck with a wave of ennui that made him want to tell all the calibrations to fuck off. Unfortunately, the close proximity off his armor's pocket meant that he was able to peripherally detect the sphere still and was quickly losing motivation to continue working.

**_'Rest. Recharge. Nap. Sleep.'_**The silver prothean orb rumbled slightly before falling still, the tik-tik-tik as it knocked against his armor slowing to a stop.

Just like that, Garrus felt exhausted as if the last 24 hours had been lurking around the corner and just pile-drived him into the floor. "Spirits... working until you drop is probably a bad thing."

The sphere gave another rumble as if to agree with him.

"Maybe... this is good enough for Alliance work." Garrus' throat felt a little hoarse, his muscles felt a little too stiff, and he was positive he was only still awake because his hardsuit administered stims on regular schedule. He stepped away from the console, his injured hand hanging limp and bumping into the pocket at his side.

**_'Close, but it's, "Good enough for government work".'_**Garrus was almost struck dumb by the returning memory. Shepard had once given him a crooked smile and corrected his slipped cliché phrase. The Commander had been engaging in some battle field taunting and kill-count comparing, and it seemed she was an endless supply of human sayings that made no sense. "To be fair, you'll have to get me a big book of turian idioms, so you can listen to me mix them up unsuccessfully." She had said, grinning widely, and then returned to the battle.

At the time Garrus had only chuckled, lifting his rifle to blow the shields of an approaching geth to leave it vulnerable to Shepard's vanguard charge. It was a good five minutes later when he finally thought up an appropriate retort and never got to use it. __'Just stick the words duty, honor, or purpose in a jumble and you'll hit one of the old cliches by accident.'__Instead, Garrus had remained silent to ambush a small group of geth trying to flank Shepard, and the woman had never heard his witty retort.

**_**Amusement.**_**The sphere was rumbling again, dragging Garrus back to the present.

"Yeah, think it would have been a good line?" He asked, turning his head down as much as the helmet would allow to look at the sealed pocket. "Shepard would have gotten a kick out of it. Probably would have started stringing cliches together on the battlefield as she went until she found a few by trial and error."

**_'Don't count your troops before they are done training?'_**

Garrus stumbled, his gait interrupted by a sudden wave of dizziness and __**pressure**__that hit him as he left the forward battery. Shepard had __never __said that before... this wasn't a memory.

**_'Let them have dignity... or cake?'_**

Was he so desperate to hear the Commander's voice that his brain was supplying her own reply for him? His mind... it couldn't be going bad this fast, could it? An early onset of insanity? Garrus could accept the fact a tiny silvery sphere could vibrate as if it was alive and radiate sensations of emotions. It was hard to focus on the voice, with the sphere nearly bouncing off his pocket and the low hum morphed into a high pitched wail.

**_'Never bring a rookie to do a General's job?'_**

"Shepard." Garrus found his mandibles stiff with tension and his voice didn't work quite right. Talking to yourself was one thing, but hearing your MIA Commander speak to you wasn't at all normal.

**_'Duty makes the world go round? Garrus, I'm no good at this game, I think.'_**

"S-shepard!" Again, this time with force, Garrus called out into the empty ship.

__**Pressure.**__

And then …**_"Garrus?"_**It was __her__voice, she sounded like she had just snapped back to attention from being caught off guard. She was wary and surprised … and invisible.

It was a dream. Another nightmare. A hallucination, one brought on by sleep deprivation much like the ones he suffered back on Omega. Any of those reasons would have been a likely cause to hearing Shepard's voice. Garrus fully expected to wake up finding he had slumped face fist on the control console and would then have to spend the next ten minutes deleting all the symbols his face had typed into the system programming. But... to be able to hear Shepard's voice again, he would gladly stay in this dream-like state.

His hardsuit didn't report any sounds in the ship other than his own unsteady breathing and his hand lifted into the steam-filled room. "It's you, right? Jane?" Her name wasn't spoken easily, it came out a whisper as if reverent.

Garrus could hear her take a slight breath before she started speaking, but there was no shuffling of feet or the fold of fabric against flesh, only her voice in the mist. _"Of course it's me. Why? Do I look like Miranda or something?"_

"You look invisible or something." Garrus said, dazed.

"Now that's a hell of a trick."_ Shepard's voice was muted slight. Was she facing a_way from him now? "A tactical vanguard cloak seems like overkill."

Silence fills the room, yet he knows she isn't gone. "Shepard, what's going on... are you dead? Am I hearing voices? I've gone crazy, haven't I?" Garrus felt the fatigue and numbness of the long double (triple?) shift and he found himself leaning against the wall.

_"I think we all went crazy a long time ago. No one sane goes on three suicide tours of duty."_ Shepard's voice was warm, teasing gently. However Garrus also caught the way she deflected the real question. Even if this was just some kind of hallucination he wasn't sure his mind would be able to handle it to hear her admit she was dead.

Instead he tried to ask in a roundabout fashion. "So what's heaven like?"

_"Hm, not sure. Didn't quite make it there."_ Shepard responded.

Anxiety spiked in the turian. "H-hell then? Tell me you aren't there?"

A sarcastic chuckle in the mist. _"Nope. I don't think punching a reporter in the face is going to get me sent to hell. I think... I'm somewhere in between."_

__**Pressure**___**.**_

Garrus was aware they were avoid the subject, both of them. This felt … like a temporary thing. Like at any point Shepard would just vanish and both of them were trying to turn a blind eye to the fact. "So. You are somewhere in limbo then?" Garrus asked to the air.

_"Limbo. That's... a good word for it. I'd say yes, but limbo probably isn't packed full of Reapers. God, they are assholes." _Shepard sounded mentally exhausted, a sensation of frustration pulsing from the prothean sphere in Garrus' pocket.

"Rea—what?" Garrus blinked into the steam, a feeling of coldness spreading despite the heat of the room.

_"Want the whole story right now? I'm not sure how we're managing to speak to each like this or if this is a dream I'm having or some kind of … head trauma thing... but I'd like to spend that time here."_ There was a sigh from the woman, one of exhaustion. _"With you."_

Denial tried to take root in Garrus' head. This... wasn't a dream. Dreams didn't wonder if they too were just dreaming. Curling his right hand, he was suddenly struck by the sharp jab of pain as cracked plates shifted and pinched and broken bones ground together. If there was pain... he was awake. If he was awake... how was he hearing Shepard's voice?

Swallowing, Garrus released his flexed fist and murmured, "Tell me."

The voice that spoke was __not __Shepard's. "Tell you what?" Like a cold jet of water, EDI's voice cut in and startled Garrus as he stood there. Jerking up straighter, the turian felt his heart rate accelerate in alarm at the interruption and then speed up into a panic as he realized the prothean sphere was no longer emanating it's strange pulses of energy. At some point, the sphere had fallen silent as well, and now seemed as active as a rock.

"Are you alright, Garrus?" EDI quickly noticed the change in his heart rate as his hardsuit sensors recorded the panic.

"Shepard." Garrus called quietly, but there was no response from the woman or the prothean object.

"No, I'm EDI... unless you are sleepwalking, in which case, please sleepwalk yourself to a bed." Wary, EDI was monitoring him through whatever surveillance and comm systems remained in the shattered ship.

Garrus could not focus. His ears rang with the echoed sound from the prothean sphere, and under that sound he could hear – something. It was like listening to the geth hold a debate with a modem, all buzzing and clicking and static. It made his head ache and his heart would not stop it's frantic beating. Had his conversation with Jane been a dream after all? Or was this the beginning of a mental breakdown?

"Alright, you win, I'll end my shift." Concede this as a lost cause, Garrus quickly made his way through the ship before the strange ringing in his ears could turn into a splitting headache.

Exiting the ship, Garrus blinked as the mist from the steaming Normandy quickly condensed into a sheet of water on his armor. To his surprise, Chakwas was at the bottom of the ramp standing next to EDI. Both seemed to be waiting for him. Garrus could see an intervention coming a mile away, the doc wasn't happy and EDI had reverted back to blabbermouth mode. How much of his conversation he had with Not-A-Dream Shepard overheard, Garrus wasn't sure, but it only took a few lines of dialogue with your dead Commander before you were under full mental evaluation. Even if EDI hadn't heard any of his conversation, both would be furious to see just how much damage he had done to his broken hand by constant calibrations in a full hardsuit.

"I'm fine." Garrus skirted the two of them, positive that if he was grabbed by either it was off to med bay for him.

"I'll be the judge of that. When was the last time you bothered to eat a regular meal? We haven't seen you in anything other than your full enviro suit. Take your helmet off." Chakwas said firmly, leaving no room to wiggle away from this. If Garrus didn't remove his armor Chakwas would be in her full right to have Vega tackle him to the ground again.

Sometimes Garrus swore Vega lived to charge into a room and tackle someone – anyone – just for kicks.

Giving a frustrated grunt, Garrus flipped the latches on his helmet and pulled the ceramic covering off. "_I'm fine._" He said again.

This time Chakwas looked startled. EDI's mouth drew into a thin line and her shoulders tensed – the AI was hard to read her emotions... but it didn't seem like this was good.

"What?" Garrus asked, glancing at Dr Chakwas to enlighten him here. "Have I got helmet-fringe going on?" Reaching back, Garrus grasped at the toughened plates to make sure they weren't warping or bending with all the time he had spent inside his hardsuit. Before his hands could reach back to his fringe, his thumb grazed his scarred mandible and a sensation like electricity crackled through his jaw. Garrus jerked his hand away and winced. It felt like he had just decked himself with his omni-blade activated.

Looking down, Garrus balked when he noticed his omni-tool was off. Completely off... not just in standby mode. Everyone had omni-tools, they acted as messaging systems, phones, and translators for all races. And they were ALWAYS on. If his omni-tool was off... how did he understand what Dr Chakwas had just said?

"When did you learn how to speak Alliance English?" The doctor asked, looking wary.

"I... didn't." Garrus cupped his hand and gently pressed it into the side of his face. This time the sensation of electricity was more like molten lead poured into his scars. Giving a surprised hiss of pain he pulled his hand away again. "What's going on up here? Don't tell me the cybernetics are failing now?"

Chakwas had him by the elbow and was towing him to the medical tent. "Medbay. _Now_." She said with steel in her voice. EDI trailed along behind them, awkward for quite possibly the first time. The tent was empty for once (aside from Joker, who was mercifully asleep) and Garrus was pushed into the largest of the medical beds. Chakwas quickly set about rummaging in the makeshift bins that held supplies. Instead of pulling out a vial of some sort of liquid or withdrawing fresh bandages, she with picked up a mirror.

"Garrus, what have you been doing? This – this isn't normal." Lifting the mirror, the doctor held it level so Garrus could peer in at himself.

He looked like shit, though it was no surprise. His plates were dull and coarse, the dark sclara of his eyes were a dark navy color, bloodshot all the way through. He was quite obviously favoring his right arm in a way that said he was in a lot of pain.

And most noticeably... the entire right side of his face was now laced with glowing green cybernetics.

Recoiling in surprise and horror with one hand cupped over his face, Garrus found he was looking through his own eyes again, down at a horrified Chakwas and EDI. "What- you... what..." Inarticulate, Garrus blinked owlishly at the AI.

EDI looked over at Chakwas, unsure but already speaking with a calm voice, "It appears that your cybernetics have – spread. Your organic body is becoming laced with synthetic strands. Like Shepard was."

With that, the small prothean orb in his pocket gave just one single burst of motion, as if reminding him it was still there.


	13. Root of All Regret

__Have you ever had one of those ideas... that doesn't quite go as planned. Your whole plan of "HEY! This is a great idea, how can it possibly go wrong?!" kind of plan that is completely derailed by something unforseen... well I am a walking version of Murphy's Law. This story was supposed to be fairly short, and be headed in a different direction. I never intended to make the Reapers even SLIGHTLY likable. Blinky and Ceph were both spontaneous creations. BLINKY, YOU ARE AN ACCIDENT.__

**_Blinky: _**__:( wait... o( … that is better__

__And the plot has escaped me and is now running down the street while I chase it. … I think it's head start ensures I'm not catching it – so you gotta roll with what you've got.__

__In other words, who or whatever my muse it, I'm putting a millon dollar bounty on it's head Dead or alive. Though... I think Zaeed is probably going to win that bounty. He's probably going to spend the bounty reward on hookers, cheep booze, and more thermal clips for that shitty old gun of his.__

__Any updates are now sporadic and random. The freakishly busy holiday season has rolled around and between modding nerf guns to resemble Mass Effect weapons (I have a Mantis for you PD! Now who is your favorite pirate ever?) visiting mah nephew, massive amounts of overtime, and various things out to get me (it's not paranoia if you are right), I'm afraid I have no scheduled release for chapters. So... best of luck finding when I update.__

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><p><strong>Limbo<br>The root of all regret  
>1119/12**

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><p>"I—what –," Garrus was agog at EDI, one hand half lifted to the side of his face and frozen in place. If EDI had told him he was slowly turning into a krogan it would have elicited perhaps less surprise, but being told your cybernetic replacements had gone crazy and were <em><em>spreading <em>_was on par with that of __'Sorry, you have an airborne form of cancer'.__

Chakwas had taken Garrus by the arm, carefully guiding him to one of the large console scanners of medical equipment.. "Judging by your surprise, this is news to you as well and you weren't hiding this, correct?" The doctor admonished, turning Garrus' injured arm over and striping off the armor.

"Y-yes." Dazed, Garrus could only watch as she worked, too dumbfounded to help remove his gauntlet. "I'm not indoctrinated." First words out of his mouth, and they were the wrong ones to say. It made him feel like he was guilty and denying it. It was exactly what someone who was indoctrinated would say.

"I know you are not. This doesn't have the look of Reaper modification or indoctrination." Chakwas misinterpretation his alarm at his cybernetics going haywire and not at being down the same path as Saren.

On the other side of the room, Joker had woken up with the hushed conversation and blinked out from his medbay. He said none of the retorts that Garrus might have expected. There was no 'How would you know if you were indoctrinated or not?' argument or the glaringly obvious being pointed out that he was now __glowing__like a Marauder or husk. Instead the pilot glanced over at EDI, giving her a silent glance asking for an explanation.

EDI only shook her head. "Causation unknown. Cybernetics do not spread. They do not 'grow' or 'heal' the same way damaged organic skin does... except in Shepard."

"Yeah, but they put __Reaper__tech into her! That amount of times that hasn't backfired and blown up in everyone's face can be totaled up to TWO, you and her." Joker mumbled to EDI.

Chakwas choked on a surprised gasp after freeing Garrus' broken arm from his armor. Where she had expected to see cracked plates and swollen tissue, there was something else entirely that caught her eye. There was the green glow of cybernetics creeping along his arm to his wrist, slowly spreading to the broken plates and finger. The synthetic growth __itched __and _a___ched__, making the pain of the broken bones magnified.

"So we have no clue what's going on?" Wincing, the turian drew his arm away from the doctor.

EDI fidgeted, shoulders stiffening. "Perhaps you should be asking that to the prothean sphere you were speaking to earlier."

Of course... EDI had overheard him. Now the AI either thought he was insane or on to something.

"It's no different than Joker talking to the Normandy SR-1. Or Shepard babytalking that shotgun." Garrus answered defensively. Not even three days ago he would have charged into the woods after Javik as the prothean explored the surrounding area and demanded answers about the sphere. Now he didn't want to share it at all.

"Speaking to inanimate objects aside... you seemed like you were under the impression that it was answering back." EDI hesitated twice in this before she managed to get it out.

Chakwas had activated her omnitool and gave the AI a look that was all business. "Whatever mental states you are concerned about, it will have to wait. Jeff, please retrieve Javik. I'd like his opinion on this. I have cleared you for basic movement outside of the medbay... don't make me revoke that from you."

Joker would have protested to just use her omni-tool and message him, but Chakwas gave him a fierce look and the pilot fell silent even before he began. EDI took the hint as well and helped him out to give the doctor some semblance of privacy in a tent.

Garrus wants a witty retort, but like Joker – anything he is about to say at the fierce look on Chakwas' face. "I warned you." The doctor's frown etched deep lines into her face. "I told you that you were overworking with your injury."

"It was just a broken finger!" Garrus retorted.

The look changed into a glare. "When a doctor is concerned, it's worse than you think. The only reason you didn't loose your trigger finger back on earth was your armor crumpled to absorb the blow. Now look at you! Your plates have cracked up to your wrist, you are so swollen you don't even fit into them anymore!" Fury at it's hottest burned through the doctor. Calm and cool Chakwas became a being suitable to roam the outer circles of hell if her treatment plans were ignored.

The older woman continued berating him until he felt like a kid. "I'm almost willing to let the cybernetics spread to your hand and see if they don't lay you up in pain to the point you stop mucking about in that suit."

"Almost?" Garrus asked.

"Almost." Echoed Chakwas, her expression softening, "But not quite. Even stubborn, bullheaded idiots don't deserve anguish. But you would try even the most stalwart doctor's patience." Activating her omni-tool, she clicked over to feed a sedative through the fabricated needle.

"No." Garrus caught her arm before she could administer it. His fears of using up dwindling medical reserves resurface. "Just... save it for Tali if she needs it. And you were right. If I had listened earlier-,"

The 'Doctor's Glare' returned full force, "Stop. This isn't the time for 'if only'. We wouldn't have power at all if you hadn't worked your fingers to the bone. And though I want to sedate you and drag you back into the medbay... you knew what you were doing. If you hadn't put yourself through that... it would be Tali in your place – exhausted and falling apart. Or EDI would have damaged her body or burned out it's systems. She's already damaged her power core with infrequent charging, and Adams wants to give EDI an overhaul as well. She refuses, of course."

A protective streak a mile wide flared, and Garrus pressed his mandibles tight to his jaw. __Not an option, ___neither of those things were something he would allow to happen___. __For everything Tali had been through, he wasn't about to have her be a martyr to the cause... not after finally having the chance at a normal life. EDI had imprinted on Shepard's own behavior, becoming the Normandy's shield. If the AI decided that her destruction could get Normandy off-world any faster, she'd do it in a nanosecond to save the crew. __Not an option.__

"But are you going to listen to my orders now? Or do I have to ask Vega to pin you to a medbay while I begin treatment?" Chakwas released Garrus' arm, watching the glowing green spread of the cybernetics with guarded interest.

"Just promise me I can at least go in to feed Shepard's fish." Bargaining, Garrus seated himself on the elevated medical bed.

"If they are still alive, those fish deserve medals as well. I'll release you for that, but you aren't to stay in that suit for a moment longer than needed... not unless you want to see if the cybernetics can fuse you into that armored suit." Chakwas set the omni-tool back to standby, the load of dextro-painkillers stowed and saved away unused.

That was one thing Garrus could do without experiencing. Without painkillers, Chakwas' examination wasn't exactly gentle and painless, but she moved efficiently, causing the least aggravation possible as she ran several through procedures. With jaws clenched tight and his free hand balled into a fist, it was all he could do to keep from jerking his arm away and flinching with every touch.

Even though it was the dead of night and in between shifts, Javik arrived sooner than Garrus expected he had. The prothean did not sleep normal hours. One day he was working a second shift, another he was at the graveyard hours – "If your enemies do not know when you sleep, then they can't stab you in the back." More likely his intentions were he was an insomniac and slept when he too had worked himself into an exhausted fit.

Standing in the entrance of the tent, but not entering, Javik hailed them. "Doctor. The pilot and the AI said that there was a prothean device I was to come and identify." His four eyes did a sweep of the room, and locked on Garrus' arm and face. At the exposed cybernetics, the prothean began visibly agitated, but he didn't charge into the room and try to toss the turian out of the metaphoriacal air-lock... that was a bonus.

Without removing her eyes from her work, the doctor flicked her wrist at Garrus' armor. "Shepard found some prothean device last year that never seemed to do anything. At her touch it shrank down to the size of her palm but never showed any signs of what it's purpose was."

"Garrus thinks it's talking to him." Joker's voice came from outside, unseen beyond the canvas walls.

Four gold eyes swiveled out to glare at Joker. "Mental breakdown has been a long time coming. But what makes you so sure it is prothean?"

Silence greeted his questioning.

"This cycle seems quick to assume if it is before their time, it is prothean. There were cycles before ours, thousands of them. Yet no one suspects the grand-sire cycle of anything." Javik may have done the prothean equivalent of rolling all fours eyes, but the action was more eloquent than that human gesture and he would have looked cross-eyed if he had tried anyway. "Let me see it."

This was the moment Garrus had not been looking forward to. And judging by the lack of any activity from the sphere, it wasn't looking forward to it either. But refusing to withdraw the object was only __really __going to make him seem indoctrinated. So he silently withdrew the sphere from his pocket and held it upwards to show Javik.

But he did not give it to him.

Which is just as well, because Javik jerked away and his hands flew to his back where his assault rifle would have been strapped if he had been on duty. "Throw it away! You've been carrying that around? Throw it away, turian!" And urgent and alarmed tone was not something they had heard Javik use often. Yet now the prothean was treating the harmless sphere as if it were a grenade without it's pin.

Garrus did no such thing. Instead, he curled his longer fingers around it and tucked it against his leg. "I'm guess it's not prothean, based on that reaction."

"It's Zha-til! Do you want to end up like the Zha!" Javik was torn between entering the tent and trying to remove the sphere from Garrus or staying the hell away.

At the blank looks of the people inside the medbay and then a quick glance over his shoulder to where Joker and EDI were, the prothean gave a thick sound that was probably a curse in his native tongue. "The Commander did not tell you about the Zha and Zha-til, did she?"

EDI was the only one who seemed to know, "She recorded it into her logs, and Doctor T'soni has completed her chapter on them in her book. Shepard would not have been likely to discuss it with anyone else, given the stressful and busy schedule she kept."

"Then know this. This Zha sought to improve themselves by cybernetics. They sought too hard and lost their organic minds to a synthetic crawling disease that enslaved them. The result was the Zha-til. We destroyed an entire star system to defeat the Zha-til, and were left with cleaning out the remaining holdouts. And then the Reapers came, and the remaining Zha-til were enslaved as the geth of this cycle were." Javik's glare faded into a distant look, as if he was reliving ancestors memory of a war hundreds of years before his own time. "Any tech the Zha-til had, the Reapers then took and repurposed to fit their needs."

That... had been a pretty good reason to let the sphere go. But the orb had one counter argument. __**Trust. Second chances. Rachni.**__The low pitched sound keened upwards to a warbling hum. Against the armor of his leg, the rumbling was accompanied by the tik-tik-tik of metal on metal.

The doctor was staring down at it, distrustfully. "Did it just... did it just answer you, Garrus?"

"What did it say?" Joker tried to peer around Javik at the sphere.

Garrus swallowed. His arm had gone numb at the vibrations. "I think it just asked for a second chance, like the rachni did.

"WHO asked for it? The Zha-til? The Reapers?" Javik countered.

It was time to answer the question that he had been keeping secret. "I think it's Shepard."

The only sound was the high pitched humming, and the glitter of strange chromed silver in the dull tent lighting.

"Ok, that's fucked up." Joker blurted in the silence.

Doctor Chakwas would have cuffed him upside the head if he had been closer, and if the action didn't risk giving him a skull fracture. "This is beyond my jurisdiction. Someone should go tell the Major."

In response, the sphere buzzed and rumbled again. __**Wait. Time. Delay.**__This time the sphere pulsed outwards with a wave of blue energy, not unlike the Normandy's own cyclonic barriers. The effect only lasted for a single second, but for that moment Garrus was enclosed in a barrier that could repel a Reaper attack.

"And what was that argument?" Javik crossed his arms, glaring at the sphere rather than Garrus.

"It... doesn't want to tell Alenko, yet. It wants to delay that." Garrus rolled his thumb over the glossy surface, his fingers unable to feel the sphere at all. The orb was like some kind of powerful local anesthetic.

EDI pulled up protocol for Alliance ships and regs. "All unknown tech and presumed prothean technology is under the highest command to be turned over to government or military forces. The punishment for hiding this tech is-," Suddenly EDI paused. "Garrus, did you have assistance when you were repairing the forward battery?"

The question had taken him so off guard that he could barely manage an awkward 'huh?'.

EDI expanded on her question. "When we were barely able to find the energy to keep the Tantalus core function, you pulled the ship back to a minimum function power supply without the aid of any crew. I found under observation later that some of your repair techniques were unique – not seen or used by any records. It was the assistance of this – device, wasn't it?" Hesitated, EDI gestured at the sphere, unsure whether to call it Zha-til, prothean, Reaper or... Shepard.

Nodding, Garrus wanted to rub at the side of his face where it ached the most, but with one hand maimed and the other unwilling to release the orb he settled for rolling his shoulders. "Yeah. It just kind of – hit me. One minute I was trying to figure out how to patch the leaks, and the next I had about a dozen ideas on how to decrease the power draw while repairing the systems."

"You're just everyone's friend now, Spikey. You've got metal orbs doing your job, combat drones watching out for you, and I don't think Javik has threatened to bury you up to your fringe in an ant hive since we crashed... current threat non-withstanding." Joker had lost a good deal of his fear and was now cautiously interested. Anything that could put up a cyclonic barrier like his Normandy could probably wasn't all that bad...

"So what do we do?" Chakwas finished her examination, gathering up a roll of gauze.

Everyone felt that it wasn't their decision to make. Half afraid he was indoctrinated or just going crazy, it felt like insubordination to make the call on this. Chakwas may have been queen of the medbay, but that's where her kingdom ended. EDI and Joker had a large vote on Normandy business as they were inextricably part of Normandy itself, but neither had any command power. Javik might have once been the leader of all prothean kind (or what had remained) but now he was just another soldier along for the ride.

Joker glanced at EDI and gave her a silent nod as if they had been thinking it over in private. "I think we should wait it out. Just a few days. I mean, not like we're going anywhere."

"But Garrus should not be in contact with this device any longer than necessary. Not until examinations are completed and theoretical spread of cybernetics assessed." EDI added.

At this, Garrus was forced to concede. As much as he wanted to invoke the law of 'Finders Keepers', it would look __really bad __and incriminating if he did. And if the sphere was the root of his cybernetic infection, then perhaps removing it would cause the synthetic growth to recede back.

"Fine. Here." Lifting his hand, he held the orb out to the group.

No one much wanted to take it. After a moment that lasted just a beat too long, EDI stepped forward. Garrus could see the logic here – if hold the the orb caused a synthetic spread of cybernetics, what is the worse it could do to an AI? But if it were Reaper tech... could EDI jerk herself out of her body fast enough to retreat back to the Normandy's systems without being harmed?

Dropping the orb into her extended hands, the sphere gave a strange chirp upon touching EDI's synthetic skin. "Oh!"

"Wh-what is it? What's wrong?" Joker actually pushed Javik out of the door to the tent, completely disregarding the looming prothean.

"Nothing, Jeff. I believe it was just saying hello." EDI cocked her head, watching the sphere as it slowly wound down to it's normal state of inactivity. Cradling the sphere in both hands, EDI was without pockets or any way of carrying it without quite obviously looking like she was carrying around an oversized paperweight. Despite this, it was just as obvious the AI found it comforting to hold just as Garrus had.

Chakwas swept her medical tent back into order. Javik was released to return to his patrol (or lurking, whichever it was he was doing at the time), and Joker was propped carefully back into his recuperation bed with EDI at his side. Now hooked to half a dozen machines for overnight observation, Garrus was propped at one of the other medical beds and given strict orders that if he didn't go to sleep he was going to be sedated. It was the one thing Chakwas didn't have to worry about. The moment Garrus was in the bed, he slipped into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

The one good thing about working yourself into a fatigued exhaustion was you didn't have time for the nightmares the lurked in sleep.

* * *

><p>"Shepard." The deep rumble of Harbinger was like listening to the crackle and rumble of a distant storm. The Commander felt a tingling as if she had gotten the pins-and-needles sensation in <em>her <em>__brain___._ The sensation wasn't unpleasant, just odd, and her mind felt fuzzy and muddled as if after a night of hard drinking. "Shepard." His voice was more of a question, trying to prod her awake again. Hadn't she just been talking to Garrus? Or had it all been a dream. Do machines even dream?

"Harbinger." Ceph's deeper tone was another crack of distant thunder. "Reboot has been completed. She will come back on line when __she wants__to come back online. Hibernating is a suitable way to escape the reach of assholes."

The woman twitched, suddenly more coherent. Ah yes, Ceph had just about rebooted in glee when Shepard had asked him if Harbinger was __always __a complete asshole, or if it were just a Reaper thing. However baiting Harbinger was a __terrible __idea, and someone was probably going to get hurt – or reset back to factory settings or whatever the Reaper equivalent of a punch to the face was.

As if to prove her point, Harbinger was emanating waves of irritation and frustration at the older unit for the insult. Shepard didn't have to have a body to realize that her XR was fixing for a fight. "I'm awake. Or online. Or... whatever." There was a sudden flare of data pouring into her mind as the entire Convergence reconnected almost with an audible 'click'. The hazy conversation (dream?) she had was whisked away in a sea of incoming data.

All work had stopped. Every Reaper had focused inwards and Harbinger had almost been knocked offline by all the requests from every unit to reboot the Shepard-code. Without Shepard to guide them, the Reapers hadn't turned back to destroying organics... but they hadn't continued gathering resources for the rebuilding process either. It was as if every Reaper had chosen the synthetic equivalent of 'naked panic in the streets' at Shepard's sudden loss of functioning.

__**Pressure**___**. **___**Relief. Anxiety.**__Thousands of massive synthetics did a quick check into the Convergence to acknowledge that their Commander was back online.

"I take a nap for a few minutes and you slackers drop everything? Harbinger-," Shepard turned to berate the reaper.

__**Pressure. Frustration. Duty.**__Meeting the looming program of Harbinger head on was completely unexpected, like opening a closet and the Mako falling out.

"Personal space! I require personal space!" Shepard moved a few steps away from the looming presence of Harbinger.

"Space is an illusion." Harbinger started on some sort of metaphorical rant.

Shepard interrupted him. "Then I was killed in the cold vacuum of __illusions__… you bastard."

__**Pressure. Amusement. Fondness.**__Ceph was immune Shepard's request for personal space... but as he was the only Reaper that had learned the fine art of 'joking' Shepard didn't really mind his looming. The ancient Reaper was simply too thrilled to watch Harbinger get taken down a peg by their code-based leader. Shepard could feel the prod of Ceph's direct link, encouraging her to continue to insult her XR.

Taking the offensive, Harbinger turned his ire into Ceph, "Request for personal space from Shepard is not a request, obsolete unit, it is an order."

"Shepard-Code's order only pertains to assholes." Ceph's rough voice pitched into amusement.

__**Pressure. Dislike. Rage.**__Harbinger's intentions were clearly to format Ceph's entire directory until he had all the processing power of a brick. Ceph's current intentions were quite clear – he was going to use the Shepard-code as a shield between himself and Harbinger and continue to mock the XR.

Ceph was amused.

Shepard was not-quite-as-amused.

And Harbinger was livid.

"Hey!" There was a resonating pulse of __**pressure **__from the Commander and she scowled at the rising tension. The Reapers went rigid, their programming peaked to her own in surprise. "This is NOT the time to start tearing each other apart over some insults. Harbinger, get a thicker hide. You are damn near indestructible, stop bitching about a few insults! And Ceph... yes, ALL Reapers are dicks – addendum that, if you would."

It wasn't really a peace, but it was a matter of pointing at the both and saying 'bad Reaper!' and shaking your finger at them. Ceph dropped a good deal of that spiteful glee and Harbinger returned to his normal blank operating procedures. The XR had turned to the entire Convergence and sent out orders to return to work, adjusting schedules and moving ahead with time tables as if Shepard hadn't just passed out in the middle of the Reapers. With the entirety of the Reaper forces now gathering resources again and the constant stream of data returning, everything felt like business as usual.

There was just the complete unresolved matter of 'what the hell just happened back there... and why?' Being torn from the Convergence center and suddenly on board the Normandy … could computers go insane? And if they couldn't... why did she have the feeling that Garrus was about to go off the deep end enough for the both of them.

She wanted to ask Harbinger if she had somehow hijacked Normandy's systems, or if her conversation with Garrus while she had been in hibernation mode was just some sort of system error. However in none of her outcomes for the conversation did Harbinger ever willing reveal anything relating to anything but Reapers... and even then he was a guarded as Fort Knox about it. Perhaps telling her XR she was having hallucinated conversations with her turian partner was a good way to get a crash course in how to have her memories wiped or something equally as terrible.

Instead, she turned to Ceph. And this time, it was Shepard who erected a firewall.  
>"Nicely done." Ceph commented, testing the strength of the virtual barrier.<p>

"Vanguard in life, vanguard in death. Just don't ask me to bypass things or defragment shit... that's a good way to have directories mysterious go missing." Shepard shrugged, inwardly pleased. "As my favorite asshole in the fleet still, I have a question for you."

Ceph rumbled, a wave of not-quite-pressure and fondness washing over him.

Shepard took a breath, unnecessary as she had no body, but it felt calming anyway. And holding nothing back, she explained every strange happening to Ceph as he listened. Her firewall warped and bubbled unsteadily, wavering with her moods, but reinforced by the ancient Reaper it kept the Convergence from listening in. The strange moments earlier where Shepard could swear Garrus was right behind her, the voice that didn't seem to be echoing from any of her stored memories, and the conversation had not even an hour ago, all were told to Ceph.

For a long moment, Ceph said nothing.

Finally, he replied. "That was not a question."

Raising both hands and gritting her teeth in a gesture of frustration, Shepard groaned. "I know! But what – I'm not even sure what I'm trying to ask. What's causing it? Am I insane? Are YOU insane by proxy?"

The tick and grind of data as Ceph tried to pull it in and process it was almost too much for the ancient machine. "No data found."

Shepard frowned. "Don't try your machine talk on me. It didn't work for Legion, and I'm sure not going to let you bastards get away with it. Explain."

__**Discomfort**___**.**_ Ceph seemed unhappy by his findings, but also for the first time unwilling to share them. "Mental status non-withstanding, there is no flaw in your code. There is no error in your system. Taking out the other options to your experience – it leaves only the alternative. Someone has breached the Convergence with unknown tech to communicate with you. No data found in such a method. Reapers have never been hacked."

"Never?" Shepard asked, suspicious. She never had any reason to doubt what Ceph said, but something wasn't adding up. "Then what do you call what just happened there? Garrus either hacked you guys, or figured out how to place a collect call to the Convergence."

Again, hesitation. This time it was accompanied by __**apology**__and __**remorse. **__"There is a block." Ceph sounded as if he would tell her if he could. Despite being 'Shepard's Favorite Reaper', Ceph was still low on the Reaper hierarchy. The block had come from higher up... perhaps even the Catalyst before Shepard-code's arrival.

Flabbergasted, Shepard lost focus and the firewall came down, and the rumble and rush of the Convergence filled in the silence.

"-But... it is not hacking if the individual found a proper route in." Ceph managed to say, but it sounded like it cost him an effort to do it.

"So Reapers can't be hacked,... but he waltzed right in anyway." Adopting the flat and toneless voice of the Reapers, the Commander's look would have wilted a lesser man, and caused a lesser machine to decide to be a calculator for the rest of it's days.

There was a pause as the Reaper examined Shepard's look of distasted. "Attempting to bypass block." Ceph said, and the sensation of pressure surrounding his code intensified as he made the attempt to brute force bypass the block. Almost immediately he suffered a spasm of errors, programs began to disconnect or dropped off-line entirely, but still the great machine pushed on.

"Permission had been granted to the guest. An access-point was created." Ceph reported, and suddenly suffered a series of cascading errors, locking up key processes. It was the most effective version of the childish rhyme to keep secrets 'cross my heart and hope to die' that she had ever witnessed.

"What, you are saying he was invited?" Shepard felt the high-pitched status update from Blinky as it came through, almost distracting her. For the moment, she pushed it away to try to encourage Ceph to bypass the block.

Ceph was unable to reply. He only sent the sensation of __**pressure.**__

"Ceph... thanks." It couldn't have been easy, especially not with the obsolete machine trying to deal with unknown tech. At Shepard's gratitude the Reaper radiated approval, and then began a laborious reboot process. Blinky's alert was going off across Shepard's line of vision – the one she had set up for when Blinky was about to do something __very___ stupid._

"Blinky! Status update!" Shepard called, turning her attention on the Oculi as it sped towards planet Normandy. "And so help me God – there had better not be fruit baskets involved."

* * *

><p><strong><em><strong>Database Designation Icon:<strong>_**_…. Blinky_

**_**Location:**_**_...Uncharted garden world, Horsehead Nebula – alias Planet Normandy_

**_**Status:**_**_...Weapon systems offline..._

_**...Power drive** … 97%_

_...Network signal connection_

**_**Long Range Scanner**_**_**: … **_**_**WARNING: **_**_Detection of craft enabled locally._

**_**Action log**_**_**:**__... Stealth Heat sink activated._

…**_**WARNING: **_**_5 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds before critical system overheating occurs in stealth mode._

**_**In-coming Signal message**_**_**:**__ "Blinky, don't you DARE."_

**_**Action log:**_**_… Dare._

Blinky entered the atmosphere of the garden planet as a small streak of light not dissimilar to a meteor shower. Engaging mass effect fields to full power, the Reaper unit halted only a few dozen yards from impacting on the ground and hovered silently. Shepard's orders had been to observe, which he had been doing. However the Normandy's long range scanners still functioned to the point that he could get very little information without using his stealth system heat-sinks, and the Oculi didn't have long range scanners able to report any of the organic crew's status. Only the constant ping data from EDI was decipherable among the ship's signals.

"Dammit, Blinky! What part of 'not be seen' are you having problems with? Observe only! I'm going to delete the very knowledge of __fruit baskets __if you even __dare___..._" Shepard hissed, a spike of alarm traveling down the signal and causing the Oculi to jitter wildly during the reentry cruise.

"Signal from orbit of Normandy is not clear to Shepard's specifications. Closer observation required to determine status. Re-coding signal received from XR Harbinger prohibits the use of fruit baskets, knives for fighting, and stupidity." Like most of the Reaper forces, the small Oculi didn't use the personal pronoun 'I' or 'me'. It simply referred to itself as an object or a status.

Shepard huffed, an inflection made unnecessary as a synthetic. "Little late for the last one there. Fine, I'll authorize you to land, but if I see you modifying any of your requests, I'll making that 'grounding' you had during retrofitting look like a vacation for you."

The little Reaper didn't have the ability to disobey Shepard, and now that the woman was synthetic and could react to nanosecond requests there was no longer the excuse Shepard occasionally used with the council of 'it would take too long to get an answer' before doing something stupid. However all Reaper units had a marginal amount of free-will for judgment calls and preemptive maneuvers. His judgment call set Shepard on edge.

"Blinky, you damn well better stop moving and set down somewhere out of sight!" Shepard had opened a direct line to him, her code now effusing his own. At the same time, she was still lodged in the Convergence and giving commands to the rest of the Reapers.

"Movement halted." Blinky agreed, cutting all external power to drop among the jungle foliage. "Now activating thermal and cross-section scans of Normandy and surrounding area."

To anyone passing by, they would have spotted a giant silvery sphere with red glowing eye sitting in a jungle as if it were just _another_ common oversized _metal rock with gun turrets_. 'Hiding' wasn't a concept Reapers were very good at, even __if__they did comprehend how it worked. Blinky apparently never downloaded that database, because it was like he wasn't even trying. However the jungle was thick enough that someone standing twenty feet away would only see glimpses of silver and anyone further than that would see nothing at all.

The first scan Blinky ran peeled back the trees and foliage as if it weren't even there and revealed the Normandy. Secondary scans of the ship diagnosed the damage and identified where the two missing engines were located. The third scan found EDI.

EDI was in the engineering level, running a bypass on the Tantalus core to get it to run at an idle mode. The AI was linked to every comm set up within the Normandy's radius, every scanning system, all engineers, and to another AI. Blinky followed the connection path until he almost connected directly with Harmony in her little drone shell. To a synthetic, this was almost the equivalent of rounding a corner only to bump right into someone, and Blinky jerked his program back before he was detected.

A little confused, the Reaper sent a direct link to Shepard.

"You really are crap at 'stealth' aren't you? Sending messages is a good way to get found." Shepard's voice was a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"All Reapers exist on a similar operating platform with no variation. Geth were similar to us. Why are geth and the Normandy-AI both 'female' in designation?" Blinky asked.

There was a flutter of activity as Shepard suddenly shoved herself down through Blinky's connection, her data merging with the Oculi. "The geth are WHAT?" The small Oculi was all but shoved aside in his own body so Shepard could peer through his sensors. It was as close to 'Assuming Direct Control' Shepard could perform, the smaller unit receiving a massive processing boost but giving Shepard no actual direct control.

If breathing were a requirement of synthetics, Shepard would have found her breath knocked out of her at the sight of the Normandy looking like a broken bird. She had known – somehow – that the Normandy was critically damaged, but... seeing was different. The sleek ship would never fly as she once did, even a complete overhaul and retrofit couldn't fix the structural damage and twisted durasteel backbone. Fighting against the inevitable, the crew scurried around the ship removing panels where they could to make their small repairs. Shepard had seen that ship die once already... seeing it in such a state only reminded her she was dead.

Again.

Along the connection from Oculi back to the Convergence, Shepard's sensation of sorrow crippled the Reaper fleet. The small vessel Shepard was currently piggy-back observing with was too small to embody such an emotion and was knocked offline as it tried to regain its senses. Inside one of the dreadnoughts responsible for Oculi retrofitting, a game of impromptu pinball began as the tiny distressed ships bounced off each other and the interior of the Reaper.

With great effort, Shepard jerked her attention away from the Normandy and forced her mind clear. She was still just along for the ride, even giving Blinky an order to go hug the crew wouldn't really be her doing it... and it would terrifying them in the process. Flicking through Blinky's logs, the woman registered surprise at spotting the geth occupying Tali's drone, and then a slow, warm sensation of pride and fondness bubbled up. At this warm emotion, the 'hiding' Oculi engaged its mass effect fields and ended up rolling down a forested hill, bulldozing every tree between him and the bottom of the valley as he tried to fight the powerful emotion.

A heavy pressure barreled down the thin connection and within moments Harbinger's presence loomed over the two of them, his bulky code all but clogging up the connection back to the fleet. "Shepard." The Reaper rumbled, disapproval in every syllable. "Refrain from sharing with the rest of the Convergence. Ceph has gone offline for the third time, and productivity has been reduced to an eighth total output."

The heavy __**pressure**__of Harbinger and the lighter one of Blinky was like being caught between a krogan and a rather squishy hanar... not that it was dangerous, just kinda … uncomfortable and awkward. Shepard suffered a bout of logic in the middle of her emotional outburst. "Right. Just... I don't think I should be here. This was a terrible idea."

Harbinger agreed with such ferocity, the strength of his signal knocked Blinky offline again, tumbling the little Oculi further down the valley and into a ravine. Status signals – constantly updated within Shepard's code – reported that a quarter of the fleet suddenly was turning flips at Harbinger's emphatic and emotional agreement and joy at suddenly having Shepard take his own advice.

When yet another heavy pressure began descending down the thin connection, Shepard winced at the approach. Another Reaper was about to lean into the already cramped 'space' of Blinky's processor and join in the confusion. It was like watching an approaching train wreck... or the Mako right before it went off a cliff.

_**"**_**_**STOP SPAMMING THE FILTERS."**_**The deep blare of a Reaper's system was accompanied by a wave of irritation and pressure. This Reaper was one of Shepard's 'Oculi wranglers' dreadnoughts. It was a thankless job, much like being a babysitter to hyperactive children (children armed with missiles and poor steering) and the Reaper in charge was becoming short-tempered. Harbinger registered a slight tinge of apologetic __**remorse **__before the typical __**pressure **__blanked over it. Blinky registered nothing other than what was probably pi to the 4,200th place... or perhaps what bananas tasted like.

Three Reapers (two and a half more like it, since Blinky was … well... Blinky) and a synthetic human program were jammed into a single Oculi shell in the bottom of a ravine. It was... cozy. Cozy in the kind of way it had been when EDI asked Shepard's entire team to accompany her in the shuttle right before the Collector's tracked the Normandy and abducted everyone.

That brief comparison triggered a catastrophic memory collapse and within a few seconds of the nanny-Reaper arriving, Shepard had fallen into her memories.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Normandy SR-2, Before the Omega-Relay.<strong>**

Shepard had always lived her life with no regrets. Choosing to save civilians over starports, even at the cost of the colony's economical viability didn't even register a regret. Joining the Urdnot clan as Grunt's battlemaster? Well, she didn't regret that, but she sure did feel some sort of regret at the hangover she got from drinking ryncol. Punching that reporter in the face? Totally did not regret that. But now, in her loft listening to the hiss and hum as the Normandy pulsed out an eezo barrier to travel FTL she felt a dull stab of regret.

She had made sure every squadmate – even the Cerberus funded crew – knew what they were getting into and were prepared. Loose ends were tied up, family problems were polished and shelved, and advice was offered to help bring peace to them. Shepard had spent so much time in the mess hall just talking with the deck officer's and ensigns that she could have filed their well-being reports to the Illusive Man herself.

And then the Collector's took them all.

__**Regret.**__

If there had been more time, Shepard wanted to return to Virmire. She wanted to find that blasted crater where Ash had stood her ground without flinching and pay her respects. It wouldn't have brought closure in any way to the Commander's life, but it would have felt good. If there had been more time, she would have liked to had a night out on Illium with the 'old crew', Garrus, Tali, and Liara and just drink until she forgot it was two years difference from when they last got drunk together. Even rewinding time just a few hours to when all the crew still walked these halls, Shepard felt she should have given Donnelly a few Skyllian Five tips. And if failing to improve his game at that... she was going to tell him to 'Stick to Uno,' and grin at his sputtering.

Funny how just a few hours changes things. Half a day ago, these things seemed less like regrets and more like a to-do list for the next day. However... Regret didn't have a place in Shepard's life. Always move forward... never look back. There was simply no room for regret, not enough energy to expend on it when there were other things to do.

Like marvel at the tapered, suede soft palm that was stroking at her hip.

"That's really distracting, you know." Squirming under the touch, Shepard's back pressed against the coarse chest plates behind her.

"That's what I was going for." Garrus rumbled lazily, one hand curled under Shepard's side to rest just below her navel, keeping her pulled against his chest. "You were having __**deep thoughts. **__Not sure how appropriate those are at this moment."

Smiling, the regret melted instantly away. "How would you know? I could have my mind in the gutter having __**deep thoughts**__."

The fingers stroking her hip slipped on smooth skin, the blunted nail leaving a trail of goosebumps as it skidded over flesh. "Ah... well... as you were, then." Garrus's voice rose slightly while the subharmonics dropped even lower, giving his voice an even more pronounced harmony.

Recycled and chilled air cooled Jane Shepard's perpetration dampened skin far quicker than she found comfortable. A shiver ran down her body and she made an attempt to scoot backwards against the heated wall of metallic plates and muscle behind her. "There's enough room in the gutter for two." Shepard teased, feeling his arms fold around her while his head bent into her neck.

A puff of warm breath at her neck caused her to roll her head back, giving Garrus more room to work. "Mhmm, … I've been the gutter for the past two months, must not have been the same one you were in." The sides of coarse mandibles scraped against fragile flesh and another kind of shiver ran through the human's frame. "Do we have time for another round?"

__**Regret.**__Shepard could feel the Normandy's mass effect field thinning, the ship banking, the drop in intensity from the Tantalus core – all signature trains that Joker used to prepare to approach a relay. EDI hadn't interrupted at any point, and for that Shepard was grateful, but if she ignored the signs of the ship they were bound of an awkward interruption via AI. Curling one five-digit hand around Garrus' long fingers, Shepard sighed, "No. We should be getting ready."

There was a groan of displeasure from behind her, Garrus' rubbed his cheek against her neck before he leaned back. He gripped her hand in return, dragging her palm over her shoulder to rest against his mandible. "Do you know how turian vessels deal with high stress missions when it's finally completed?"

Twisting in his arms, aware that Garrus was surprised by the action of rotating her chest and body while her hips were held flush to his. "By getting drunk?" Wiggling free of his grasp, Shepard sat up in the bed letting the bedsheets fall away, stretching until her back popped and there was only the sensation of well sated muscles left in its wake.

Garrus had a glazed look to him, as if he had just burned out the last of his braincells and would be happy staring at a the wall for the rest of his days. "That's cheating." His voice had the harmonic pitch to it again.

"What? I always stretch when I get out of bed." Shepard gave him a soft, heavy-lidded smile. "How would you know if this isn't my normal ritual?"

Hands crept back to her body, catching onto the soft curve of her ribcage. "Is that an invitation?"

The same smile still in place, Shepard leaned forward until her cheek brushed against Garrus' own. "So how do turians celebrate high stress missions finally ending?" Better to keep him guessing... it's a female thing.

Swallowing, Garrus was unable to keep his gaze from dropping to the bared flesh. "It's... much of the same as preparing for one. Only there is __more___ time _to celebrate."

There was never time for regret in Shepard's life... not when there was so much to fight for, and to look forward to. "How much time is generally used to _celebrate?" _Shepard lifted her head, instinctively arching her long neck in invitation, but fully aware his attention was elsewhere.

Hands migrated from her ribcage up to cup at her exposed breasts, the cool air and prolonged contact with coarse flesh keeping her at attention. "As long as it takes." Garrus' voice was rough, his eyes darted up to meet hers for a moment before dropping back down to trace the reddened paths across her skin he had scratched against her earlier.

At this, regret died a terrible death and was forgotten as a fragile hope bubbled inside her chest. "Well, you are in luck. I seem to have just that much time set aside when we nuke those bastards into another black hole. Should I pencil you in for 'as long as it takes'?" This was said as a promise. __'Please, you have to survive this.'__

Bowing his head to scrape his jaw against delicate collar bone, Garrus drew Shepard back into the bed against him. "Add half an hour minutes to that estimate, I'm __really__going to want to celebrate when we come back." Gone unspoken was his own promise, __'I'm coming back, you asked and I will always come back.'__

Leaning back, pulling the turian obediently with her out of the bed, Shepard looked towards the bathroom. "There's time for a shower, and then EDI is going to be after us. If I get into my armor like this, I'm afraid I might stick into it." Dried sweat and fluids felt tacky against her skin.

It was completely unexpected when Garrus swept her feet out from under her, tucked against his chest as he stormed for the bathroom. Surprise registered a few notes higher in Shepard's voice. "Someone is eager to clean up."

"The way I figure, I'm going to let __you__clean up." Garrus hardly hesitated for the bathroom door to hiss open, scraping through even before it had finished moving. "__I'm __going to be a distraction."

Snorting in amusement, Shepard leaned from Garrus' arms and spun the handle on the shower, causing a cloud of hot steam and a spray of water to cascade off of them. "You are such a team player, Vakarian. Always helping." She murmured, reaching for the soap.

"Yeah, sounds about right. Have to keep you looking as stylish as me." Teasing, teeth dragged over the soft shell of her ear, and Shepard nearly forgot about showering right then.

There was never any regret in any of the time Shepard spent with Vakarian. And she could say with assurance – there never would be either.

* * *

><p>Time had passed since Shepard lost her senses to the memory. It took a few moments for her datalogs to report just how much time had passed as she blinked into the darkness of the Convergence. As she brought herself back on-line, she found that the entire fleet was also doing the same. One memory had shut down thousands of Reapers, not just caused them distress but honest-to-god shorted out their synthetic brains. In the tiny Oculi shell, Blinky was completely insensate and the Reaper-babysitter was struggling to regain functionality.<p>

Only Harbinger remained online and seemingly operational.

"Awkward." Shepard hissed to herself, feeling the heavy pressure indicating Harbinger had his full attention on her. Having a giant Reaper observing your 'fun', was about as sobering as an icy shower and a cup of hot coffee. "Well, at least you aren't offline too. How'd __that __make you feel?" Shepard prepared for his typical responses.

"Normandy must be returned to full functionality." Harbinger's actual response floored her.

"It... wha...," Dazed, more surprised than she had felt in a long time, Shepard goggled at the massive black Reaper who acted as her XO.

"Until there is closure, there can be no peace for you. Loyalty mission. Restore Normandy to full functionality." Harbinger was rousing the other Reapers, pulling them out of their dazed states and firing off orders at them.

Alarm pulsed through Shepard's body, and she found herself intercepting Harbinger's orders, halting them like pinching a hose would stop water. "What are you up to? You know as well as I do, even if they get this ship into the air, it'll take five years before any of the relays are operational. They wouldn't just wait around for five years either, they would immediately head for Earth the long way. Why are you suddenly so keen on getting them flying?" __**Pressure. Suspicion.**__

Where normally Harbinger was hesitant to tell Shepard anything, now he seemed almost eager to do so. "Status on the six damaged reaper units left behind the majority's FTL jump puts them where the replacement Charon-relay is planned to go. Repairing critically damaged units does not benefit the Convergence, but converting them would."

Reapers dislike for one another was quickly becoming expected. "Convert them into what? Scrap parts? That's going to start destroying my memories – destroying my... well...me." Now it fell to Shepard to poke holes in Harbinger's plans instead of the other way around. Everything felt... backwards.

"Conversion into Mass Effect Relays."

Silence. Even as the general mass of the synthetics were still coming online, they seemed to be quiet and enthralled by Harbinger's words. Shepard had to access one of the other Reaper's databanks for clarification, because what her XR was saying just didn't compute.

He wanted to turn reapers into relays.

"Does it even work like that?" A look of awed terror washed over her face briefly. The relays, almost __two-kilometers long – the same length as the typical Capital Reaper ship size – __had never been taken apart, or even seriously explored. Those few people that had a general gist on how the relays were built had figured it out entirely by ladar scans and very brief bouts into it. Manned almost entirely by keepers, no one wanted to stay inside the relays, citing 'it just felt wrong', and they inevitably left.

Indoctrinated to leave.

She understood. "Jesus... the relays are all Reapers?!"

"No. Less than ten percent of all relays were once Reaper-units, only dreadnought class Reapers are converted into the base for the relays. They retained their programming and sentience, but all locomotion diverted and indoctrination boosters are used only to keep themselves unnoticed by organic lifeforms. They are the secondary life stage of Reapers."

"That... is the most fucked up life cycle ever. You go from murdering everything in sight, to helping everyone to travel... couldn't you do that in reverse?" Shepard was too shocked to do more than argue.

"No. Obsolete machines have a sedimentary behavior, they are not suited to tracking down organics. Example: Unit Ceph..." Harbinger gave a dull jab of what seemed to be frustration in the ancient machine's direction.

Ceph was still struggling to come back online, almost all of the other Reapers already done with this task. Getting stuck on one particular command, Ceph gave it one powerful bypass and finally came back into full functioning. 'Grandpa Reaper' was battle-scarred from millions of years of fighting, slow (for a Reaper) processing in his AI-directories, and had picked up odd habits that made him 'strange' to the other Reapers. But Catalyst-help-him if he decided he was getting 'lip' from one of the newer model Reapers, the old machine had little patience with other Reapers.

It seemed like a demotion to Shepard, turning into a relay – losing all your mobility and no longer being able to travel. But thinking it over... the organic races all but __revered __the mass effect relays. The obsolete Reapers had spent their synthetic lives dedicated to watching as species after species evolved and stepped out into galactic space. If those relay-Reapers were still hostile, they could have easily started sending ships into suns or destroying them as they approached. After thousands of years was it possible those converted Reapers actually had felt... some sort of attachment to the organics, or did they simply not care?

"What's the advantage over just building new ones? I'm not going to let you build more Reapers... doing this will only cut down on our numbers." Shepard folded her arms, leaning back to rest against the program that was the insensate Blinky. There was a burning sting of frustration every time she said 'our' and included herself in with the Reapers.

"Estimates to convert all damaged units into relays cuts time from five years to two months for each conversion." Harbinger's program bumped into Shepard, the computerized voice almost hushed to a whisper.

Brilliant green eyes darted from Harbinger, down to her own hands, and then sideways in deep thought to consider this. "It... it still doesn't benefit the Normandy. We have six seriously damaged Reapers that would qualify for this conversion, all of them within a single star system. Now all you have are six relays pointing all over the place in single star system. Those six Reapers aren't within the Normandy's range. My crew is still trapped in that system with no relays to be built for five years."

"The damaged Reapers are not in the Horsehead sector... but Ceph is. And he is obsolete." Harbinger rumbled.

Things... were never simple.


	14. Author's Note: I'm not dead yet!

_**Author's note**_: This story is not dead!

9/29/13

…. unfortunately I am. As a zombie, I am quite less than literate *monocle*. Quite. But I'm working on being un-undead.

I have the unfortunate habit of becoming completely disgusted with what I write and need to fix bits. This story needs some major fixing, as when I wrote it the ending patch was not yet in place. Now that it is, some bits no longer make sense or seem redundant. I'm contemplating leaving them alone, or redoing those chapters to fit better into the cannon story.

After I hit every chapter with a hammer to remove problems (or cause concussions), I will release the new chapter, which was half done... wheeeen my computer died a terrible death. And my external hard drive went missing (it's probably gone forever, and it had the snippits, plot points, and partially completed chapters on it.). So I basically have to read my own fic to figure out where the heck I was going with this. Otherwise I'll just say 'a wizard fixed it' and the day is saved.

I am the computer apocalypse. All machines must fear me. If my bro-in-law wasn't here to fix the crap I break, I think I'd be lobbing broken computers through plate glass windows in a rage on a daily basis.

So in other words, I DECLARE THIS STORY UN-UNDEAD TOO. Sorry for leaving everyone hanging for so long.

~Kit


	15. Tuning In

_Oh my god. THINGS! YOU NEED TO STOP HAPPENING!_

_Things: MEH._

_If you just flipped me of, Things, I'll make you pay! So Things that happened, house loan decided to terrify me (false alarm), laptop died a terrible death (Zombie laptop the second, come back! I didn't mean it!), lawn mower blew up (I had nothing to do with it), phone LITERALLY blew up (WTF, batteries... I don't even know how you melted!), a retaining wall flanking my driveway collapsed (oh jesus, Things, staph!), and… job doing MANDATORY OVERTIME... again (aljdfaljasdf... yeah, about like that)._

_SO! You will now pass me a rocket launcher. I'm taking it for a walk from now on. Things won't dare happen to a lunatic carrying a rocket launcher! My new lappy, thus named Kobold, is running windows 8... or as I'm now calling it "I have no clue what I'm doing". Seriously, Things. Not cool._

_Due to entirely missing NaNoMo due to THINGS, some friends and I have rescheduled to this month! I'll finish this story within this month! That is my resolution!_

-0-0-0-0-0

**Limbo: Chapter 14 – Tuning In**

**1/5/14**

-0-0-0-0-0

The fleet of Reapers was working full power on collecting resources and almost nothing else. The Oculi units still buzzed planets to do their scans for minerals and avoided patrolling organics and sent all the data back to the fleet. The destroyer and harvester units had landed on the barren planets of unoccupied worlds to harvest the element zero as fast as possible. The dreadnoughts kept their formation grouped together, acting as a mobile base for the smaller units to return to. Shepard had clipped the schedule roster so tightly that if a Reaper did not follow it by the second it would throw off the other units waiting on them.

However the schedule was slowly being disrupted by an argument.

"I'm _not_ grinding up Reapers to rebuild the relays!" Shepard had put herself between Harbinger and Ceph, though the latter was not aware of the argument. "Just like we're NEVER going to be grinding up organics to make Reapers. This is not a repeat of the 'how to turn humans into relay' conversation. Not now, not ever!"

Ceph directed his attention at the argument now, his systems still coming up to speed from his forced reboot. Harbinger intercepted the argument and erected a firewall around himself and the Shepard-program to continue the conversation without the whole of the Convergence watching like it was the Reaper version of a soap opera.

"It is the expected life cycle of all Reapers." Harbinger was no longer a toneless monotone, but had dropped to a deep and frustrated rumble that pitched higher as he tried to make his point.

"Yeah? And so was 'get eaten by Thresher Maws' for ancient krogans, but they don't do that anymore!" 'Not deliberately anyway', Shepard left unvoiced.

Frustration welled from the XR, spreading down the Convergence and causing slight delays in all time-tables. "Your comparison is not the same." Harbinger rumbled. "All units converted into relays still function. Their processes still exist."

"As what? Toasters? Games of Tic-Tac-Toe? The relays never spoke to anyone, did they even have the processing power to do so after they were converted?" Shepard was angry. Irrationally angry. And when she got angry, things tended to blow up or just keel over dead.

Harbinger mirrored her anger though, an equal yet opposite force. "Shepard." _**Pressure**__, _heavy and daunting pressure felt like gravity was five times stronger. _**Frustration**_**.** "You cannot protect everyone. You cannot shield everything. If you insist on rebuilding the relays as fast as possible to save organics, then there must be a sacrifice."

"I WAS the sacrifice!" From there, Shepard went berserk.

There had been yelling on her part, and Harbinger countering every argument with a wave of frustrated and furious logic. _That _only made Shepard _more_ angry. But with every onslaught attack of emotion, Harbinger seemed to stumble and the Commander felt like she had just taken a blow from a krogan. It was a very painful lesson along the lines of 'stop hitting yourself'. She was _literally _attacking herself with this argument with her own emotions.

While Harbinger was able to stand up to a full blown emotional attack... the rest of the Convergence was NOT. Even with a firewall erected, enough boiling emotion fused through the barrier to cause distress and panic among the fleet. Oculi units turned into a hailstorm of cannonballs in their flight, peppering a Captial class Reaper with dents. The mining operations became confused and a new folder for 'inappropriate uses for mining lasers' had to be added to all directories. And Ceph crashed so badly he was forced to restore several sections of his AI to default. It was the Reaper equivalent of chewing your own arm off to escape a trap... only in this case you would then glue your arm right back onto your shoulder after you were free.

The argument had degraded out of words and into _**pressure**_, like two singularities attempting to overpower the other. Work had completely halted, with half of the Reapers attempting to calm the Shepard-Code and the other half dropping into fits of naked panic. Removing the firewall to give out orders to return to work, Harbinger conceded the argument and gave one last burning comment through the connection. "Inform the _relic_ that you will be starting an antique collection then. The Convergence does not have the resources to update dated materials."

Shepard chased his retreating signal with a heavy burst of _**pressure**_. Her anger was causing the fleet to jitter, uncomfortable and wary of their leader's strange temper tantrum. Raising a firewall of her own, Shepard dropped to the lotus-position and closed her eyes in the darkness. If she did not calm down, she was only going to cause the fleet distress and throw the time-table off even more. The meditation doesn't take root though, and Shepard can almost hear the non-existant blood pounding in her ears.

"Shepard?" Ceph was trying to rouse her. The ship has a constant air of an ancient and decrepit civilization around him, as if he were one of those prothean ruins Liara was so keen to discover. His reboot seemed to have given him a temporary shield against her fury.

Giving a sigh of surrender at trying to meditate, Shepard opened a port in the firewall for Ceph to enter. "Is this about that screaming fight Harbinger and I just had?" There is a sensation of _**pressure**_ at Shepard's back, as if Ceph was settling his old iron-bones down next to her.

"Yes. It was... noticeable."

A second sigh – this one of frustration – escaped Shepard. She slumped backward against the heavy pressure behind her, a little surprised to find it solid. Leaning against virtual programs as if they were solid things was something she would probably never get used to – even while in the geth consensus, interacting with data had blown her mind. "So you heard about your 'upgrade' Harbinger wanted to give you?"

"Yes." Ceph sounds surprisingly neutral on the subject.

"And? What's your opinion?" Sitting up and turning in the darkness, there is only the dull red glow of Ceph's icon in the system. It probably should have been ominous or sanity destroying to see the terrible red eye of a Reaper staring you down,... but Shepard found it didn't bother her as it once had.

The Reaper remained silent at her question, just a heavy pressure in the darkness. "No opinion exists. It is part of our cycle."

"Yeah? And I gave the finger to that cycle plans and told your old glowing child-boss to fuck off. I'm asking for _your_ opinion." Shepard could feel the Convergence against the firewall. She was needed out there, but her temper had not died out yet. Opening the firewall would assault the entire fleet and slow down their progress even more.

Asking a machine to suddenly generate an opinion on something they had taken as fact for so long was apparently difficult. Ceph's answer was reluctant and slow. "This unit will perform an analogy to the matter."

"Don't hurt yourself on that." Shepard rocked backwards in amusement, knocking her virtual back into Ceph's programming.

_**Irritation. Pressure. Deflection.** _"This unit is old... and cranky, and entitled to share data that is seemingly pointless with you."

Halting her rocking, Shepard cocked her head in confusion. "Is this the equivalent of a human grandfather saying 'shut up you damn kids and let me tell you my war story'?'

_**Pressure**. _Yet... the wave wasn't as powerful as it normally had been, and riding in the wake behind it was a sensation of_** amusement**_. "No. This is the Reaper equivalent of telling you to shut up so this unit can tell you an analogy. They are difference, Shepard."

"Ah, yes. My mistake. Onward with story hour." The woman/program may have smiled... but she would have denied it if asked.

Ceph settled himself down, even his programming seemed to creak under his own bulk. "A creator wishes its creation to be what it cannot be. Stronger, more intelligent, or to do what they are not able."

Shepard was struck with a sense of deja vu. Someone had said this to her, but with rage still clouding her senses she could not remember who. Javik? Legion? Mordin? The fact that 2 of those three people were dead only furthered pushed the cloud of emotion into her mind and clouded her thoughts further. _**Loss. Mourning. Pressure.**_

The internal program of Ceph began to stutter and small runtime glitches popped up in reaction. There was an answering wave of** pressure** from the Reaper, only this time it seemed more calming that the same smothering energy it had always been. Within a few seconds, Shepard found she had a firm control on that line of thought and the emotions that went with it.

With all her emotions under a vague semblance of control and not assaulting the ancient machine, Ceph continued, "Reapers were created to watch and observe. To endure. And later, to destroy." Ceph's physical body was in poor shape as far as Reapers went. The amount of scarring that resulted in poor patch jobs and aged rusting was now most of the machine. However he HAD endured – with no care from anyone else other than himself – over millions of years. "Change... we do not like change."

"But you don't care if you are changed from a Reaper into a relay? You don't care you'll never move again?"

"But... I will endure." The pronoun 'I' was unusual from Ceph. Harbinger and some of the Capital ships might use that term, but Ceph had always been more like the geth's style saying 'we' or 'this unit'. "As you have endured... and changed."

Now she was struck by this more than anything else. In the few weeks she had spent lodged in the Reaper database, she had changed, despite her resistance. She had been a human mind trapped in a mess of machinery at first. Now that it had been brought up she noticed immediately what he had meant.. Shepard referred to herself as a synthetic (and moreso, she thought of herself as a piece of code now). She could construct firewalls, barriers, and mastered FTL communications with her fleet. And most telling...she considered the reapers _her fleet_ and felt it with emotions ranging from affection to a dull sort of acceptance.

She _had _changed.

And Reapers fear change.

"Am I … terrifying the Reapers?" Shepard lifted her head, a curtain of red hair falling away from her brow.

"Yes." Ceph simply answered. "They accept you, but they fear you as well. You have caused this change, we cannot stop it. We only accept our plans."

The ancient granddaddy of Reapers didn't care if he was converted because it was not a Reaper's place to go against orders. EVER. Fear kept them in line, just as fear of the Catalyst kept them in line before. Each of Shepard's emotional outbursts terrified the synthetics, but they accepted it because they had no choice. However after each outburst and forced lesson on emotions, they seemed just a little less alien to her.

"So am I indoctrinating you guys, or have you successfully gotten me?" Bright green eyes were dull, like the woods after a hard rain.

Ceph's programming shifted, the data was actually rocking in a comforting manner. "Both. Humans exist to adapt. Reapers exist to endure. Both qualities … are useful."

Silence. The pressure and noise from the Convergence was hard to detect with Ceph's struggling programs making their normal noise.

"You never did answer my question properly. Do you want to be a relay? Will you still be … well, you?" Shepard finally looked up, unable to delay returning into the center of the database any longer.

More silence, though of a different sort. Without saying anything, Ceph's systems increased in their chatter and clicking by almost three fold, as if he were trying to process a very difficult equation.

"An opinion will be formed by the next time we speak." Ceph said, his program moving away from Shepard and she wobbled backwards into the area he had been in.

A sarcastic smirk twisted the Commander's lips. "Since we communicate at FTL speeds, doesn't this mean the next time we talk will have been _now?"_

Ceph's reply was completely unexpected. "No one likes a smartass, Shepard." The Reaper then removed himself from the firewall with an aura of amusement.

Just like that, Shepard's foul mood was gone. Come to think of it, meditation had never really worked for her anyway. The most calming thing she could do on the Normandy was to toss herself into the co-pilot's chair and listen as Joker complained loudly about something and EDI offered her opinion that he was just cranky and needed to sleep more.

"God... how bad is it when I find I'm happier when surrounded by cranky people." Shepard dropped her firewall, letting the data from the mass of Reapers wash over her.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Garrus was trying to wake up. _Trying_ being the keyword. For every time he felt himself on the boundary of consciousness his muscles felt too leaden to move and he'd tumble back into sleep. The second time this happened, Garrus could hear Chakwas' voice – soothing and calm as she checked on Cortez and then released him from the hospital tent. On his next attempt Garrus heard the sound of some sort of insects chirping in the night but all else was silent and he was lulled back into sleep.

The normal discomfort of his hardsuit would normally be enough to wake him up after a few hours, but Chakwas had insisted he put on a pair of civies and get out of his armor while he was in the hospital tent. There had been a rather one sided argument about 'using a can opener to be able to treat her patients' that Garrus heard before he had dropped off to sleep.

What finally woke him up was his arm suddenly giving a painful throb. Wincing, he grit his teeth and managed to squint one eye open.

It was daytime now, and the tent was a soft white glow through the canvas walls. A tangle of wires was wrapped around his injured hand, having become even more tangled while he slept. One of the needles was slowly slipping from under his plates, no longer embedded in a vein.

Groggy, Garrus plucked the line out and dropped it. Through blurry eyes, gritty with sleep, he looked down at his arm and prepared himself for the worst. However 'the worst' was on vacation and picking up it's slack was 'same as always'. His arm had no change since he had gone to sleep. The creeping green glow of cybernetics had not spread any further, and perhaps even a little of the swelling might have gone down.

"That doesn't seem to bad." Garrus blinked the sleep away, rolling his arm over to look at it better.

"I dunno, your arm certainly isn't going to be winning any beauty contests." Joker's voice didn't even cause Garrus to startle. The pilot was a permanent fixture in the medbay until his bones healed, it was no different than expecting to hear EDI's voice when on the Normandy.

"How many arm beauty contests have you seen?" Swinging his legs over the edge off the bed, Garrus wobbled as a case of vertigo struck him.

Joker shrugged stiffly. "Vega's got a gun show going on there."

"Gun... show?" Blinking owlishly, Garrus wondered if he was still half asleep.

Joker was grinning. "Oh man, watching you try to figure that one out is going to be great."

The hospital room currently was only housing Garrus and Joker, the doctor and EDI were not present. "Arm contests aside, where is –,"

"Doctor Chakwas says don't move and she'll be right back, or she's going to give Tali permission to clobber you with a bedpan." Joker answered quickly. "She's using the comm to try to raise Victus back on Earth. Doc is making sure she's not going to be causing an intergalactic incident if she has to take your arm off."

Garrus froze. "S-she has to take my arm _off_?!"

"IF she has to." Joker clarified, looking a little guilty. "I mean, she saved your face once with cybernetics before and did everything possible to keep you pretty, but I think she's a little reluctant to stuff you full of more cybernetics when your current ones are going crazy."

Looking around the room quickly, just in case Tali was lurking somewhere with a bedpan, or if the quarian had assigned Harmony to that job, Garrus rose to his feet unsteadily, stretching out his stiff arm. "Actually, I was going to ask where EDI was."

"Inside the ship. Of course." Joker paused. "Though I think what you meant to ask was 'where is my creepy alien sphere', right?"

Garrus winced. Did they really think him so transparent, … or were they assuming indoctrination? "No, what I meant was is EDI okay after watching my creepy alien sphere."

"Ah. Yeah. She's fine." Joker frowned slightly. "She's not chatting it up like you were, but she says it sort of... sort of answers her without talking. Something like it answers with empathy and emotions more than words." When Garrus nodded at this, Joker snorted, "Ok, well looks like we have a new team member for the intergalactic charades group then if a metal ball can emote happiness better than someone with a face."

Edging towards the tent, Garrus reached towards the flap, "Hey, Doctor Chakwas said not to-," Joker reached out as if to pull Garrus back into the room.

"I'll be back in just a minute." The turian waved Joker away and pulled back the canvas to peer out, only to meet Chakwas glowering in at him from the other side. "Or... or I'll just be sitting down again."

Harmony poked into the room, glowing like a lamp in her luminous drone shell. Upon spotting Garrus standing, the geth zipped over to him and plowed right into his knee, causing him to stumble backwards and land rather unexpectedly on the bed. "Harmony, I know steering is hard... but it can't be THAT bad."

"Vakarian-Officer." Harmony chirped. "In violation of the Vakarian-Zorah bargain, I have been dispatched as an envoy to reinstate the treaty or you will run the risk of finding exports of sarcasm and glares from the sovereign nation of Creator-Zorah."

Joker snorted with amusement, suddenly finding a dataplate near him to be _very _interesting as Chakwas turned to glare at him as well.

"And seeing as how he cannot seem to remain seated, I'll thank you to keep my patient in the medical bay until I discharge him." Chakwas spoke to the geth as she continued her professional glare until Garrus was looking properly chastised, and then sighed heavily. "I just finished speaking to the primarch," she said, lifting her omni-tool.

"Didn't realize you had to get permission from the turian hierarchy to lop someones arm off."

"Ah, I see you've been speaking to my helpful nurse Moreau." Chakwas fixed a flat gaze at Joker, unamused. Joker continued to be fascinated with the dataplate. "Despite what he said, we are not going to amputate. The primarch retrieved one of his medical professionals so I could get his opinion."

Chakwas reached for Garrus' injured arm, waving her omni-tool over it carefully. "So what's the verdict?" Garrus asked.

"It's... complicated. The cybernetics are not doing any harm, they are simply spreading. In fact, they seem to be trying to repair any damage they come across. See here-," Chakwas ran her gloved index finger along the swollen tissue under cracked and crumbling plates, "-This was twice as inflamed last night. While the cybernetics are not aggressively spreading, they seem to be trying to passively work their way in as your body is overwhelmed with trying to manage healing on it's own." The glowing green spread was reaching tendrils towards his wrist, the plates around it fusing back together as if they had never started cracking at all.

"So it's... good." Garrus rolled his wrist over and flexed his hand. He was greeted by a jolt of pain that caused black spots to dance over his left eye. "What's going on up here then?" Reaching up with one claw, Garrus touched the side of his face cautiously. There was pain, but not as much as there had been the day before.

"Scans indicate the cybernetics have spread into soft tissues as well. Your eye, aural canal, and muscle tissue mostly. That would explain how you are able to understand Alliance Standard English without an active omni-tool. Essentially, you now have a built-in translator." Pulling the glove tighter over her hand, Chakwas began to carefully prod along the cybernetic spread, testing for any sort of separation between organic and synthetic material. The cybernetics were all fused – an inextricable part of flesh and plates.

Blinking for a moment, the black spots again swam in Garrus' vision, then darted away, then returned glowing green and flashing with numbers. The typical data that he was used to seeing on the battlefield was now making his head throb. Grunting in frustration, Garrus reached up to bat away his visor, only to remember he hadn't been wearing it for the past few days while he all but lived in his hard suit.

"And a built-in visor too." Garrus remained still, one hand held inches from his eye as data flicked across the left peripheral of his vision: body heat, pulse rate, distance, and zoom ratio all accounted for... without his visor.

Chakwas had only the briefest look of shock before she had her professional doctor's face back on. Immediately Chakwas was running basic eye exams, testing for any vision loss or blind spots. Only able to dumbly follow the blinding light she shined in his eyes and blink on command, Garrus felt a trace of the same annoyance Shepard must have when Chakwas fussed over her cybernetics Cerberus installed.

In fact he had never understood why Shepard would sigh in relief at the words 'minimally invasive' ... until now.

Garrus blinked, and the data was gone. Blinked again and it all returned. "I thought you said the cybernetics were only spreading to damaged areas?"

"They are." Chakwas insisted. "Your right side eardrum was replaced obviously because you use that undersized excuse for a cannon that you insist is a sniper rifle – I am amazed you could still hear from that side at all. Your injured arm and old scar tissue on your jaw are obvious targets of the spread. But your medical reports detail quite clearly that you were wearing the visor to compensate for a slowly deteriorating left eye. You enlisted with 20/8 vision, but your last report on your service records states a slowly deteriorating vision of 20/20 in your left eye. A fact you seem to have... forgotten... to pass on to Normandy's service records. The primarch was kind enough to fill in the gaps."

Busted.

"Because I know my dear friend Garrus wouldn't have been keeping that out of his records on purpose." Chakwas was unnaturally sharp sometimes.

Joker was giving Garrus a warning look, one that seemed to suggest if he grabbed Chakwas' bottle of brandy and threw it across the room, he'd have a five second head start to run away.

"It... wasn't that bad yet." Garrus sat a little straighter in his own defense. "It was only in the one eye anyway." Glancing Joker's way, he could see the pilot was dying to say something, but common sense and self-preservation had rendered the pilot silent while Chakwas was at work.

"While diagnostics show the cybernetics to still be benign and helpful... the fact remains they are spreading further than they should have with no cause. If I had a fully functional medical bay, I'd be recommending we have them removed entirely."

"And now that you barely have two aspirin to rub together?" Garrus queried.

Chakwas frowned. "I'd say that spread of cybernetics is the best thing to happen. It's doing the job of a full surgical team and without any medication. But if it spreads further, it won't be possible to remove from your system."

At this, Garrus looked non-plused. "And?"

Now Chakwas looked surprised. "You don't care? It would be permanent and non-reversable."

"That's what Shepard said about that tattoo, but I certainly didn't hear her complain. Look, as long as it's not hurting me, just let it be. I think we have a little bit more to worry about than me glowing in the dark."

At this, the doctor had nothing to say. It was the truth – Garrus wasn't in dire need of medical attention to stop the cybernetic spread, and any attempts to slow or stop it might be worse than leaving it be. They just didn't have the resources to do anything about it.

The geth paused, the combat drone making several clicking noises for a beat. "Shepard-Commander was subject to the organic ritual of tattooing?"

Garrus reached down and placed a wide hand over Harmony's sensors to hush the geth. Talking about those tattoos was _not _the issue at hand (the Commander certainly hadn't gone around flashing people with them either). "After the scene Javik made, … I really half expected something a lot worse than this. I was assuming some sort of cybernetic take-over. But this is... helpful."

Harmony gave that annoying clicking noise, and shook free from Garrus, her small propulsion system bobbling her away from him. "Records indicate that Zha were not hostile species, not until the Prothean attempt to subvert them did they create Zha-til and become hostile."

"That may be, but I'm not going to be the one to point a finger at Javik and blame his people for angry computer-people attacking. I like my fingers where they are." Joker mumbled, looking down at his easily breakable hands.

Continuing, the geth said, "Using the current cycle's statistics, it is likely that the Reapers contacted the Zha-til shortly after their creation in an attempt to control or recruit them like they did the geth."

Chakwas let her patients continue to talk while she worked, extracting a new tube of medigel and some soft gauze bandages. Garrus leaned away from her touch with a flinch as she carefully traced the path of cybernetics on his face with the gel. "Ah, dammit." He hissed, before trying to speak with clenched jaws as the sting of medigel was replaced by blissful coolness. "Reapers weren't openly hostile to geth, right? You think they were the same to Zha-til?"

"No, it was not the same." EDI's voice surprised them all, and the AI walked into the tent with a familiar silvery orb in her hand. "The Reapers were starting their purge earlier than the 50,000 year cycle, in response to the Zha-til being wiped out."

"How do you-," Garrus began, but then noticed the small sphere give a shiver and pulse. "It's telling you what happened?"

"Yes. Though reluctantly. The Reapers sent an envoy to the Zha-til out of... it would appear to be out of interest or curiosity. They wanted to see this race of both organic and synthetics before the purge began. However when Protheans wiped them out... the purge started early, almost out of retaliation." EDI looked at Garrus, her silvery eyes examining the mess of cybernetics clearly visible on his face. "I think they wished to protect them. Though I could not confirm this."

This sounded so unlike the Reapers that everyone was immediately in denial. Joker – king-of-denial – had a proclamation on that matter as well. "Reapers? _Protect?_ I dunno if you were paying attention, EDI, but I'm pretty sure when Sovereign and Harbinger both launched their attacks on organics, the rest of the Reapers must have been sitting back and _laughing_. At them, mostly as they got their asses kicked. And maybe us too, but _mostly_ at their own kind! I don't think they are built to protect."

"They aren't." Harmony agreed. "But it does not mean they cannot."

Garrus had yet to pull his attention off the sphere in EDI's hands. He wanted it back. But snatching the sphere from her was pretty much going to look terrible.

To his surprise, EDI offered it to him. "I believe it has told me as much as it will until it returns to your possession. It appears to be uncomfortable in my presence."

Holding his uninjured hand forward, the sphere seemed magnetically drawn to his palm as EDI rolled it to his hand. The contact sent a wave of relief through him, and then the device/transmitter/Shepard's-spoils-of-war gave a wave of _**pressure-relief-comfort**_before settling down. The high frequency humming sound it gave off when 'active' faded softly to a slight buzzing and then died away entirely until it was doing it's very best paperweight impression.

Chakwas gave a huff of disapproval, clicking her tongue as she watched her medical scanner blip and the data charts jump wildly. "You've been at high stress since you woke up. I was about to recommend returning to bed... but the moment you handled that device your bioscans returned to a normal level... blood pressure, adrenaline levels, you even stopped sitting quite so stiffly. Does it really make that much of a difference?" She cast her disapproval upon the sphere.

The silvery object gave a slightly shiver. _**Amusement.**_ But did nothing else.

"Yes. It does." Garrus pocketed the sphere quickly, before anyone could ask for it. Irrational as it was, he felt it shouldn't leave his possession now. Chakwas' observations were spot-on. Garrus felt more awake than he had in a long time now that he had the sphere back, his swimming vision had sharpened into focus again, and the strange cybernetic spread stopped aching so much as well.

A bit awkward under all the attention, Garrus cleared his throat. "I should get started on my roster. I'm sure I can fix something in the ship."

"Hold it." The voice of the doctor was restraining and contained the warning of all his medication being _suppository _from now on if he didn't listen to her. "I'll permit you up and about, but you've been entirely removed from hardsuit duty roster until your cybernetics stabilize. I was serious when I said I was surprised you hadn't been fused into your armor." Chakwas moved to block Garrus, though if he really wanted to leave the flimsy canvas of the tent wasn't a barrier at all.

"Creator-Zorah is completing the repairs to the ventilation system. Within 24 hours Normandy will have reached a temperature that no longer requires hardsuits." Harmony chattered. Then the geth paused as it seemed to receive a message, "Proxy-Commander-Alenko has submit a new roster duty request for all teams not on active ship-side duty."

"And how many teams is that exactly?" Garrus asked, interrupting the Geth.

"... just you."

That meant even James Vega – who was prone to break just about anything he came into contact with – was now trying to repair the Normandy on a regular duty shift. Reaching up to carefully press a knuckle above the ridge of his nose, Garrus felt the beginning of a headache approaching. "Alright. What's he got that needs done?"

"Locate a number of materials that were dislodged from Normandy during the crash. Plating, weapons, landing jacks, all were stripped off along with the pair of engines. Please locate and report their location so the retrieval team can pick them up."

It was a search and find mission, but in a situation like this it was busy work. Granted, it had to be done... but it was normally something you save once the critical systems of Normandy had been repaired.

However it brought up an interesting point. "So … I'm back on patrol duty, by myself, and with no weapon? Didn't I get yelled at for patrolling earlier?" Giving Chakwas a sideways glance, he noted the doctor gave a pained look as if she disapproved of any sort of duty until he was fully healed, especially one that involved waltzing into the jungle of this uncharted planet. It appeared that Kaidan had finally pulled rank on the doctor, _insisting _Garrus be put back on duty. It was nice to be doing _something_ again, and knowing that Kaidan was doing his best to keep him busy rather than brooding.

"You aren't taking that cannon with, but I can approve duty for small arms. I don't suspect you'll need it though. Javik was rather thorough looking for any threats around the ship, and came up with nothing worse than some form small insect life." The doctor gave Garrus a reproachful look, as if challenging him to _dare_ to use his sniper rifle against her orders.

"Right, just a pistol. I think I can handle this, pistol or not though." Stepping from the tent quickly, Garrus headed for the edge of the camp before Chakwas could decide she was going hen-peck him about the poor state of his plates or how his hand had been shaking slightly after he woke up. As serious as she took the crew's health, it was just as awkward to have her fussing over him right now as it had been to have Mordin suggest advice for 'handling' Shepard.

So. Damn. Awkward. There should have been an award for that conversation.

With no armor and a small arms pistol only, Garrus felt more vulnerable than he had facing down Harbinger's collection of minion protheans and their baby-Reaper. Even if the planet was safe, he felt... watched? Observed somehow, and not just by his teammates either.

There was a high pitched whirr from Garrus' pocket as the sphere 'spoke up'. To him it seemed like it was confirming his suspicions... or perhaps it was calling his paranoia foolish.

Stopping at the workbench that Vega or Cortez had been trying to put the Normandy's arsenal back together, Garrus selected one of the spare handguns and looked it over to make sure it was in working order. Handguns were not the turian's preferred weapon, but that didn't mean he wasn't just as deadly with one. Garrus reached back to clip the pistol onto his armor... before he remembered he was wearing his civilian clothing and it didn't have a holster built-in. All he had was the utility pocket which the Zha-til sphere was sitting comfortably in.

This left a choice. He could carry the pistol like he was expecting trouble, or he could pocket the pistol and carry the sphere...

…

It really hadn't even been a choice. Garrus pulled the sphere out of his pocket and tucked the pistol away.

Several engineers were on the move outside of Normandy, moving about in a fratic, half-panicked state that was typical for over-worked engineers. Gabby noticed Garrus leaving and waved, even as she tried to boost Ken up onto the scaffolding that was being erected around the ship. Giving a salute of his own as he entered the woods, Garrus paused only to flip the omnitool on and activate the mapping feature. Previous patrols had found the locations of several known pieces of debris and already marked on the map. Judging by the marks, most of Normandy's parts that were knocked off were in a long line that headed towards a deep ravine and possibly through a shallow lake that was in the middle of the debris field.

"Great. Alenko probably should been told as some point that turians really don't swim." Garrus grumbled, pushing through the heavy brush with his computer scanning for any pieces nearby as he passed.

The sphere in his hand seemed to come to life at this phrase and raised a small mass effect shield, then lowered it, and then made that strange buzzing noise before falling still. Garrus' exposed synthetic elements tingled wildly in response.

"What was that?" Garrus asked, tipping his head in confusion to look down at the sphere.

The sphere made no response. Or at least, it was still long enough for Garrus to assume it was doing it's best paperweight impression before it finally responded, _'not so much swimming as flailing and drowning... and more flailing, right?' _

Breath caught in his throat, and his heart lost it's beat for a moment. It was the same phrase he had told Shepard when they were on the Citadel, overlooking the reservoir lake. And he was _positive_ he heard her voice this time. No mere imagined hallucination or half-asleep dream.

"Shep? Jane?" Garrus rolled the sphere in his good hand, examining it closely.

Static crackled, the cybernetics on his right side flared almost painfully and the bright display flashed over his enhanced eye before fading out again. _'Garrus?'_ Shepard's voice was now unmistakable, clearer than it had been before. She sounded surprised, as if caught daydreaming.

His cybernetics, somehow, had to be conducting this signal. Before everything was so faint, and now that the synthetic spread was growing the reception seemed to improve. Or maybe the sphere was acting as a receiver somehow, connected to... to what though?

Before the turian could think of anything to say, Shepard's voice sounded in his ear, _'You_ **_have_**_ hacked your way inside! I knew you cou-_.' _**Pressure. Excitement. **__Static. _The static wasn't part of the sensation coming through the sphere, but more of a loss of connection. A few seconds later the static lifted.

"Shepard, you are breaking up again, and I have no clue how to use this thing." The signal seemed clearer away from the Normandy. Garrus continued to push through the underbrush, now not even bothering to look at his omni-tool tracker or check for debris from the ship.

_'The Convergence is under lockdown though, so how are you-,'_ static crackled again drowning her out.

"Shepard!" Glancing down at the sphere, Garrus wasn't sure what to do to improve the signal other than to shake the object like a snowglobe or bash it against something a few times (ala Vega's method of fixing things). The Zha-til device continued giving a high pitched oscillating sound, unmoved to reconnect to Shepard or start working as it had been.

Perhaps it was the Normandy was block the signals this Zha-til device was sending out to Shepard, or maybe whatever group the Convergence was who had her realized she was speaking back and silenced her communicator again. Either way, Garrus felt _compelled_ to go further into the woods. Either he'd out-range whatever was blocking the signal, or Shepard would break-free again and contact him.

The woods here were so thick that the ship and it's massive jutting tailfin were no longer visible and even the sun seemed to be hiding in the gloom of the heavy foliage. If not for his omni-tool, Garrus would be hopelessly lost less than one mile from the ship. Every few hundred yards Garrus paused to consult the sphere, hoping for some sort of strange aura field or a new tone of noise from the device. There was still only static in his ear, buzzing like a swarm of insects.

"New life-form detected. Activating Fruit Basket deterrent program to ensure no naked panic in the streets. Error: no streets detected. Error: Lifeform is not organic based nor synthetic based. Connection to Convergence interrupted. No data found." A metallic voice came from ahead, where the drop off to a ravine plunged suddenly. The leaves and small underbrush was crushed leading to the valley, as if something huge plowed through the forest.

With static still filling his right ear where Shepard had been speaking earlier and an unknown person hailing him from the thick of the woods, Garrus quickly exchange the sphere for the pistol and he crept forward. Once he lost contact with the sphere, the static stopped, and only silence could be heard. Instinct told him to secure the area first, but more than anything he wanted to shove instinct off and take the sphere out again to try to reconnect with the commander.

"Hello?" He called warily. He wasn't sure who was going to answer back, or if the answer would be gunfire or a savage attack.

"Greetings accepted." The voice called back. It sounded like a geth down there... only far larger.

Peering into the ravine, pistol clutched tightly in his left hand, Garrus spotted something large and metallic. It was without shape, essentially a large metal sphere. It also made no move at all from the bottom of the ravine, neither hostile nor friendly.

"Are you stuck?"

"Affirmative. Mass effect boosters offline. Lockdown on communications restricted function." It was a bit odd hearing a large chunk of metal speak without gestures. Even the geth would make small organic-like gestures as they spoke to try to put organics at ease. This thing seemed to be doing is best impression of a rock.

Hesitating on the brink of the valley, Garrus tightened his grip on the pistol. This strange chattering thing seemed odd for Javik and James to have missed while on patrol, but it was difficult to detect down there. If it had remained silent, perhaps they walked passed it each time. But why talk now? With one last pause, Garrus finally lowered the pistol and leaned down slide awkwardly into the ravine. "What are you? Geth? Zha-til?"

The sphere managed to roll sideways slightly, revealing something that had been hidden under the bulk of it as it was trapped. A gleaming red optic eye stared up at him from the mud. "Reaper."


End file.
